Wishful Thinking
by Petalwing
Summary: You know why you hate him? He can love. You can't even love yourself! You despise what you are and thus all you can is despise others. If you could find a way to love yourself, love would come as easy as breathing.
1. Meet a Mage

Usual witty Disclaimer:

Raistlin belongs to the Dragonlance Authors. Kenders probably belong TSR or maybe to Wizards of the Coast, my Office Program doesn't belong to Microsoft, Mary Sue does belong to everybody and nobody will sue me for this, because we are fans, no harm is done and it is OUR hard earned money we spend on Rulebooks and Drangonlance merchandise...

Hi Guys. As you can see from the disclaimer: Honey, I wrote a Mary Sue. But at least, I dare say its not quite the average type. (No godlike powers. No hidden abilities. No overwhelming smartness.)

Humor intended. Romance intended. Well, sort of. Raistlin may act somewhat out of character. But you would too, if you awoke in a... well you'll have to read it. :D

Ok, so we have a Kender, A Mage, Ambition and something that is absolutely not right...

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Wishful Thinking

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Part One: Meet a Mage

Somewhere on Krynn in a juggler's camp:

Nima Teketoll, a young kender girl sat on her little bed in the old wooden wagon she shared with her parents. It was her free hour in the afternoon and she was reading a spell book. It was her favorite spellbook. Not counting the fact that it was her only spellbook. But that didn't matter to her. She just loved the illusion spells described in the "Grimoire of Charlatanry." Softly, Nima closed the book and stared dreamily out of the little window of her mobile home. Maybe one day she would become a mage. A true mage. A mighty mage. Mistress of all illusions in the world.

Though she was gifted with magical talent nobody had ever bothered to send her to one of Krynn's schools of magic. And it had never occurred to the young girl to apply for any of them. What could the dry shrines of scholarship hold that was interesting to a kender who could otherwise travel Krynn and do a lot of mischief while on tour with Gypsies. No ten horses would carry her inside a mage's tower. Gloomy old places. If she was to borrow something there she would go but certainly not for the sake of studying. But she still could dream...

Nima reached for the Grimoire once again and went back to studying the spell of Animal Voice Imitation. Suddenly somebody knocked at the wagon-door and only seconds afterwards, the door crashed open, revealing the figure of Naranja, the Fortuneteller's daughter. Naranja was human and the equivalent of what humans called a best friend. The girls were nearly the same age, relatively speaking, and had shared their daydreams and hardships for years.

"Nima, I was looking for you all over the place! Come out. There are guys outside! Good looking guys!"

Nima arched an eyebrow, sceptically and disinterested. Since shehad reached the wonderfully mature age of seventeen, all Naranja had in mind where guys, and good looking guys, and better looking guys. Humans! Nima thanked the gods she was not punished with nasty overwhelming mating instincts. She was still able to see the important issues of life clearly. Learning how to unlock doors without making a sound, perfecting acrobatic skills for the show, and performing magic from old grimoires her beloved daddy had organized. Nima just shook her head and settled on the bed more comfortably. Naranja tried another one on her.

"RICH guys, Nima. With VERY interesting things in their pockets."

Nima jumped and shut the grimoire.

"What are we waiting for? Lets make friends with them!"

Naranja smiled. This would always work. She watched her friend putting the spellbook in a drawer.

"Dreaming of being a mage again, are we?"

Nima raised a fist, inclined to make a speech.

"I have a book! I have the skill! I have an artifact! And I will not hesitate to use it."

Naranja smiled wisely.

"You mean the necklace with the white gem your father gave you together with the book?"

Nima nodded.

"He bought both things from a mage. So they must be powerful artifacts."

Naranja chuckled.

"Be honest, he didn't exactly BUY these things."

"That doesn't affect their magic!"

Both girls grinned.

"Is that the reason, you keep wearing the gem all the time since you got it?"

"It makes me feel more like a true mage."

Naranja smiled and shook her head.

"Nima, you're a kender who's family is specialized in rope walking and you lived your whole life among a lot of riffraffs like us! Your mind is full of insanity and mischief. Go hit your head against something hard and change your life ere you become a mage!"

A quick retort formed on Nima's lips as, suddenly, the gem of her necklace started to glow. A low rumble shook the caravan as the girls inside could feel a trickle on their skin. The air seemed to have become alive and energetic. "What the Abyss is this?" was the last thing Nima was able to say. Then something near to her neck exploded and knocked her unconscious.

When she awoke everything was dark. She sniffed. It smelled odd and it was cold. She sniffed again. The place smelled of herbs and smoke. It reminded her of the room of Hrongar, the old alchemist. Probably she was inside his caravan. Probably they had brought her to Hrongar because the accident or what ever it had been had caused some injuries. Hrongar had healing skills. Yes, that must be it. She felt a little weak right now. "Hrongar?" she asked into the darkness. No answer came. But this was not the truly irritating part. Had her voice just sounded different? More... um... deep? She tested the situation again. "Hrongar?" Still no reply. And indeed, her own voice sounded strange. Equally annoying was the fact that s_he wasn't lying comfortably at all. _Her back ached. No wonder, they had put her in a very stony place to lie. No fun, indeed. She felt a cold stone floor beneath her. "Not funny!" she murmured into the quiet of her surroundings. Then she tried to stand. The intended action proved more difficult than Nima had expected. Too late it occurred to her that she wore very strange clothes. A robe or something like that. Her efforts to jump on her feet like she was used to caused her to fall over the ends of the robe and to stumble.

Nima just managed to utter a panicked cry for "Help!" and fell onto the floor again.

At that moment a door was opened and light lifted away the darkness of the room. A shadowy figure stood in the door. The stranger asked something. It sounded like:

"Shalafi? What is with you?"


	2. Meet Dalamar the Dark

Oh, already four readers. 'winks frantically' Thanks for your encouragement. :D

ChildlikeEmpress: I think having a female self invented main character always tends to be mary-sueish. But I try to keep the girl on a more or less "normal" scale. In D&D terms she is supposed to be a 2nd level rogue and 1st level witch.

About the romance part. I fear you have to wait for that a little while. It will take time. I wanted to write a raistlin-romance but my problem is that I don't think he is likely to fall in love. I doubt he is even capable of. With that opinion of him its not easy to get him involved into romantic issues AND keep him in character. However, its a challenge. I have an plan how to get him there, but poor Raistlin has a long way to go...

For your question, I think that is revealed in this chapter.

By the way, the first chapters are centered around Nima and Dalamar but Raistlin definitely will appear. In the meantime have fun with a kender in the tower of high sorcery in Palanthas...

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Part two - Meet Dalamar the Dark 

The shocked girl clumsily got herself into a sitting position and stared at the man who approached her. Now, that he had brought light, she could see that her companion was an elf. A most impressive elf. With dark and handsome features. He wore an elegant black robe and right now he looked at her with a mixture of concern and obedience.

"Shalafi." he repeated. "What happened? Are you all right?"

Dumbfounded, Nima observed the room. What had happened here? Good question. Next one, please. As far as she could see now in the sudden brightness of a light spell the elf had woven, she was not in some place she knew. And the place was certainly not located in her camp. The room looked more like a laboratory of sorts. Dark, stony walls were covered by bookshelves. Boards contained flasks, scrolls, powders, herbs and ritual paraphernalia. This was likely to be an alchemist's room for experiments or a mage's study chamber.

Mages! That was it! The last thing she remembered before all this had happened was a discussion about magic and artifacts. Immediately Nima raised her hand in search for her necklace. But the necklace was gone. At least she found the gem. It lay on the floor right next to her. Hastily she grabbed it and buried it in her fist. It was her talisman after all. Watching the floor more closely she realised that somebody had painted a perfect pentagram on the floor and she sat right in the middle of it. Wearing a black robe. Not good. Definitely not good. Stories sprang into her mind. Bedtime stories the boys told each other. Rumors about dark evil cultists, virgins and sacrifices to unspeakable gods or demons... And pentagrams had something to do with it! And blood, too.

Nima swallowed visibly and stared at the dark man who had reached her by know. Whatever she had expected, he acted otherwise by kneeling down in front of her and grabbing one of her shoulders lightly. He spoke again.

"Master, I heard an explosion from your work room. I heard a cry for help."

He stopped and obviously expected her to explain. Why had he addressed her as master?

"I feel strange." was the only thing she managed to croake. Before she could add something more she coughed. Not once, not twice, it all ended up in a real coughing fit. Nima had no idea where the coughing came from, but her body started shaking showing no intention to stop. It was a frightening experience. The only positive thing was the elf's supporting hand on her shoulder. But instead of helping her, the elf stood up and went over to a huge desk. The helpless kender still suffered from the cough attack. Nima was sure, if this didn't stop the next minute it was going to tear her lungs apart. It hurt. In an instant the elf was on her side again. He hold her protectively and a mug was pressed against her lips.

"Drink." he commanded.

Somehow she managed to deal with this body of hers and get the liquid from the mug into her mouth and swallow it. Soon after the first sips the pain subsided. Both the elf and the girl sighed.

"That was close." she whispered. "But I feel better now."

The Elf nodded.

I still don't know what happened to you, Shalafi." he said, a slight trace of reproach in his soft voice.

"Um... I don't know?" she tried. "I just... don't know... what... has happened. I was there... and then I was here... and everything was so strange... and... I don't know. I hope I didn't break something. I surely didn't intend to. Really. It was probably just... coincidence..."

Nima smiled nervously.

He elf's jaw dropped slightly open. So this was not what he had expected to hear. He muttered something hardly intelligible to himself. Nima only managed to get a few phrases. "Magic" she heard. "Powerful spell"..."Must have affected... mind."

Nima used his moment of distraction to examine herself. What she saw made her shiver. She was not like she used to be. She was taller. The man next to her was a full grown elf and she realized that she was nearly as big as he was. She also felt very different. The skin on her hands shimmered alien in the light of the elf's magical flame. And these hands did definitely not belong to her. They were too big, too clumsy and anyway more like the hands of a human male. The same with her feet. And that strange robe she wore, looked just like the elf's. Who wore such strange robes? Priests probably. And Mages. Nima raised her left hand to feel her face. Definitely not hers, but a stranger's face. A male stranger's probably. So, it really seemed like she was in another persons body. That had to be a dream. But why hadn't she snapped out of it by now? And if something really, really strange had occurred and this was not a dream at all, where in the darkest Abyss was she? And who?

She recapitulated what she had seen so far. There she was, in an eerie chamber with a lot of arcane stuff, wearing a robe and sitting in a pentagram. And another guy who looked handsome and a little sinister was muttering something about spells. So she was very likely stranded in the body of a mage. The girl tried to remember the few things she knew about mages. A line of a popular kendersong came into her mind. _Black mages in their halls, cast evil spells and fireballs..._ But since this was not the appropriate occasion for singing lessons, she went on to other memories. Hrongar, who knew a lot about these things, had once told her that there were several kinds of mages on Krynn. Good ones who wore white robes, neutrals who could be identified by wearing red and the evil folks who were only seen wearing black. Nima cast a glance at her clothing again. Bad thing! Very, very bad thing! Blackrobe! So the "normal" occupant of this body was supposedly a very evil mage. And logically the handsome elf next to her must be... following the same profession.

At this moment Nima realized that he was talking to her. Whatever he wanted, she had to be careful with him. Probably it was not such a good idea to tell him who she was and how she had come here. If he was evil, and all blackrobes were evil, or so rumor had it, he would probably misuse her dilemma for his own selfish interests. He had stopped talking by know. In her confusion she had not paid attention to what he had said. Just for the sake of habit she uttered a phrase that was very common among all kenders.

"I didn't do it!" she sputtered into the blue.

"So you were attacked?" he asked.

Nima had no idea how to answer. Without knowing the topic of the conversation this was a difficult task.

"No... not... not really... I wouldn't call it attacked... it was more like...like..."

"An interference...?" he assisted.

"Yes! An interference! A really nasty interference. Interferences can be so nasty at times!" Nima stated.

The elf seemed once more astonished.

"Um... yes." he said. "And then your spell went wrong, Shalafi?" he tried hesitantly to get useful information out of her.

"Yes..." Nima nodded slowly. "I think this was the point when everything went wrong. Yes. Right. This happens, you know." she told the elf who watched her closely with the same look people normally spared for wounded animals or persons not quite right in their heads. "Magic is so very tricky and just apt to go wrong. That's part of the deal."

"Shalafi, are you really sure you feel all right?"

Nima saw a chance coming. A chance for comfort. And she was not inclined to let it go by.

"I would feel better if I had a bath and a decent meal and a warm bed. Magic makes people hungry."

The elf nodded. "As you wish, master." He rose. "I'll prepare the meal and a bath."

"Thanks! That's very nice of you."

The elf paused, raised an eyebrow at her and shook his head. "I learn and obey, master."

"Oh... Great!"

He turned and was nearly out of the door when Nima realized that she had absolutely no idea where she was or where the personal rooms of her "host" were located.

"Can you help me to my quarters?" she cried at his back. "I... feel still a little weak."

This was not even a lie. The elf bowed slightly.

"Of course." he said.

Instantly he was at her side again. He took one of her arms, put it around his shoulder and supported her body with his other hand on her waist. Slowly they walked out of the room and along a dark pathway. Nima didn't like the building. Everything was dark and gloomy here. Just like mage towers were supposed to be. She didn't dare to thank the elf once again since this didn't seem the appropriate reaction for the man in who's body she was now captured. They went several stairs downwards and passed another hallway when they finally reached a door. They stopped and he let her go. He bowed again and left. Nima stood still for a moment thinking what to do. Since she didn't find any better options she hunched her shoulders and opened the door.


	3. Getting Acquainted

Thanks to Guan and ALS for reviewing.

ALS: Wait till he finds out he has breasts now and a new height of 1,28... g

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Part three - Getting acquainted

Behind the door lay several rooms to explore. Nima loved to poke into people's private chambers. A lot of interesting things could be found in such places. She looked around in the suite. There was a drawer that looked tempting, a closet, some shelves...

About half an hour later, Nima had satisfied her curiosity. And she was badly, badly disappointed. Boring, that was it. Everything in here was absolutely and awfully boring. No family pictures, no jewelry, no money, no private diaries... just some wooden artwork from foreign lands in the living room, several fine embroideries on the walls and some scrolls in the nightstand. But the parchments were covered with some obscure and unreadable scribble. Since they revealed nothing of interest she had put them away again. The whole room was orderly and somehow impersonal without an atmosphere of privacy as one would expect in the living quarters of somebody. But besides an unnerving lack of bright and shining colors -Nima loved everything bright and shiny, especially colors- the room looked more like a room to let.

These were her -his-, quarters? Everything was exquisit and of the best quality. Still, it was a stupid place to live in, Nima decided. She wondered whether it was advisable to look for some secret hideaway under the carpet or behind the shelves. In the meantime she settled herself in front of a small secretary in the sleeping room. Why would anybody need a desk in his sleeping room? When you slept you didn't write. Strange habits. Really strange habits. She shook her head, thinking about what kind of person would live in such a place, and suddenly hit her forehead with the backside of her hand. Stupid girl! She had forgotten one of the most common places to look for secrets. She had left out the bed_. _

Most people left something under their beds. Most people took this for a very secret place. But people also put their keys under flower pots, beneath carpets or above door frames. Very original indeed. She had learned her lessons about the predictability of humans. This mage definitely was a human. Probably the old under-the-bed-trick would work. The bed was relatively large and soft. At least, her host seemed to prefer nice sleeping conditions. Good boy. She kneeled down and peered into the dusty darkness. And there was something. A chest of some sort. Nima jubilated triumphantly. Finally something to satisfy her curiosity with. She reached for the wooden box. But before she could complete the action, she pulled away hastily, folded her hands and leaned on the mattress. The opening of a nearby door and soft footsteps had caused her to take a sudden break from her investigation tour. Better not to be found snooping around. Besides, she didn't want to share the chest's possible secrets. When this untrustworthy elf didn't know about this, that was better for her. Elves weren't so different from humans after all.

The only pose that could innocently explain her kneeling before the bed, was speaking prayers. She had seen humans do this very often before sleeping. She was a lucky kender knowing so many and exact things about human behavior and rituals. As soon as the footsteps came nearer, she started with an appropriate prayer to a popular human god. All humans she knew worshiped him.

"Oh Paladine, venerable Lord of Law and Honor..."

"Ehem."

A soft hem came from the door. The elf was back again. She appreciated his being here for the moment since he had brought a tablet full of fruit and bread. Nima turned around and seated herself on the bed and watched him expectantly. He shrugged and put the tablet on the secretary.

"I knocked, but no answer came." he murmured.

"I was praying!" she insisted proudly.

He inhaled a deep breath and sighed: "I know."

"It was a correct prayer!" she justified her action. She had done no mistake. She had perfectly copied human standard.

The elf shook his head slightly and stared at her for a while. Then he bowed again.

"What ever you say, master."

Nima nodded and reached for the fruits. Her stomach produced a soft rumbling sound. Boy, was she hungry. She hoped the elf would go away, but he didn't. He just stayed there and observed every of her movements. This was somehow unnerving. Finally she shrugged. At least, bad company was better than no company at all.

"You wam fome foo?" She mumbled, her mouth full of bread and gestured in direction of the plate. The elf stared at her and refused politely.

"I already ate." She could only guess his thoughts by the stony face he always wore, but she had the feeling that behind his mask of nonchalance he was surprised. She took some more bits of bread. The elf was quiet. Nima didn't like quite companions. Talking was much, much better. Besides, she needed more information about this place.

"What did you do today besides rescuing me?" she asked the elf.

"I occupied myself with the lessons you gave me, master."

"Oh fine... What kind of lessons did I give you again?"

"Runes."

He eyed her closely and slightly distrustful.

"Oh. Runes. Hn. I remember..."

Then he did something she had not expected. Before she could react, he spoke a fast incantation and was right in front of her, wielding a fiery blade, that appeared in his hand. The edge of the eerie weapon pointed directly at her throat.

"Who are you?" He asked coldly, all politeness gone.


	4. Hiding the Truth

Special thank's to chickens, Guan and Dalamar for reviewing. And greetings to my new beta-reader. Now, onward with the story:

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Part four - Hiding the Truth

"What?" Nima stared shocked at the elf. Oops, now things had gone a little bit out of hand...

"Not what." he said dangerously cold. "Who? You are not my Master."

"Um..."

How was she to come up on top and out of this mess alive? How was she to explain? She couldn't tell him the truth. He was a big, bad, bullying buddy and he would probably rather strike her down than help her. She needed time. Time to think and invent a proper strategy.

"How did you find out?" she whispered.

"My Shalafi never taught me lectures about runes."

"Oh."

Nima watched this blade of his closely. A dangerous situation. But, hey, Danger was Fun!

"I... I... I think I should explain..."

"Well?"

She could sense that his patience was nearly expended.

"I... lost my memory!" she blurted.

That hit him.

"You... what?"

"I lost my memory. I don't know what I did before you found me. I still don't know where I am and I have trouble to figure who I am myself."

He looked thoughtful now but the blade didn't waver a bit.

"This is a joke." he said.

"No. It's probably due to the magic. A magical accident."

He shook his head.

"Nice try, spy. And now, where is my Shalafi?"

Oh, he had taken her for a spy. No wonder he had reacted like this. So, that was his problem. Why did the big ones always have to be so paranoid? However, that was something to build on.

"Look." she began in the same tone, she used when explaining Runino, her little brother how to pick pockets. "If I was a spy, sent by a hypothetical and powerful foe, if I did overcome all the obstacles to fill in the position of your master, would I really have behaved like I did?"

He didn't retort but she could see by his narrowed eyes that he was considering her point.

"Oh well." she said frankly. "Let's test it. Do whatever you want. Do magic. Find out, whether I am an illusion, or transformation or whatever. If I am, it is better we both know it at once. Test me. I will hold still. And if your tests prove that I am real, you may help me to find out who I am and what I did. Deal?"

Well, Dalamar had agreed. He had taken her not to the laboratory but to his master's study room and performed different spells on her. Several hours later, Nima sat exhausted on a bench in the study. The last hours had been filled with strange commands from the dark elf. "Close your eyes.", "Stand still!", "Get over there."

She knew none of the spells. But she knew the outcome. It seemed that he hadn't found anything. Diverse means of identifying a person had led to only one possible conclusion. Nima was his master. That was perfectly logical and, unfortunately for Dalamar, totally incorrect. But how should he guess that she was a girl that was captured in the body of his master. Things like these didn't happen frequently. Not even to mages. Right now the elf had made her drink a bitter substance and chanted a strange incantation while observing her. A frustrated line appeared between his brows. Nima leaned back and looked around. What a big room. If it wasn't for a strange eerie coldness that traversed the hall in spite of a homely fire in the huge fireplace, the room could have had an atmosphere of cozyness maybe. Big comfortable chairs and soft candlelight invited the visitor to sit down and read one of the thousands of books that were collected in here.

Nevertheless, things began to be boring. When did Dalamar realize that his magic wouldn't grant him any further clues? When would he accept her version that she,- his master-, had just lost her memories? Why couldn't he just give in? She wanted to take a bath. She needed rest. And tomorrow she had to find out how to change everything back. But that was for tomorrow. Nima decided that she could live within a mage's body for the night. She just waited for the elf to stop.

Finally he gave up. He was forced to admit that, according to magical investigation, she was neither an illusion, nor a shapechanger, nor a demon in disguise. So she must be Raistlin. Ah, this was the name of her host. Raistlin. Note to self: Must not forget name.

"Oh well, after we have this fixed, can you please accept that I just have a memory problem and help me get it back tomorrow? I am really tired now."

"Well, yes, master. Please forgive me but I had to make sure you are not an intruder."  
"I understand but I want to rest by now. If you can just show me the bathroom, I'll be fine."

He was shocked.

"Master, you even forgot the rooms of your residence?"

Nima pondered for a second, if she should reveal how far her "memory loss" went. Perhaps it was not the wisest thing to do. But on the other hand she was tired of lying to him all the time. She smiled her most charming smile.

"Unfortunately, I even forgot who you are."

The elf breathed deeply, but stayed calm at these news. Since he had no other option for the moment he had to accept the fact that his master was like a stranger to him.

"My name is Dalamar. I am your apprentice."

"Hello Dalamar. Nice to meet you."

He rolled his eyes, but didn't question her further. It seemed that he was more shocked about the situation than she was. Well, that was surely because he was a Big One. Biggies always took everything much too serious. To Nima, the situation didn't seem so bad. Oh yes, she was now an evil mage, but she had already gotten something decent to eat. And tomorrow there was a tower of sorcery to explore. And that Dalamar-elf was quite nice when he didn't wield blades of fire at her. As long as she could convince him that she was just Master Raistlin with amnesia, they would get along well. Oh, she would have to tell wonderful stories when she was back home. And of course she would be back in time. There had to be a way. There was always one.

Then he had brought her to the bathroom. A nice room. Much more comfortable than the few cheap bathhouses she had visited in her life. Everything in here was of exquisit quality. And there was so much space. The room had nearly the size of her family's caravan. And while her home was stuffed with the personal belongings of four people, this room here contained only a drawer for towels, a shelf with soap and essences and a big, wooden bathtub. Right now, it was filled with water. Dalamar went to the tub and leaned over the water. He murmured something and touched the surface. In an instant steam rose from the tube. Oh, a heating spell. The man was so practical. Great.

She remembered Hrongar speaking about this kind of spells. He had called it house-keeping-magic. _'Nothing is so useful as house-keeping-magic, Nima. You need not learn the mighty spells at first. You can do a lot with beginner spells if you know how to use them.' _

And now Hrongar's house-keeping-magic had granted her hot water. Yay! Not the cold water of a river, spring or lake. Nevertheless, the water was clear and smelled of refreshing herbs. And there was no family to share it with. And all this in such an agreeable surrounding. Nima sniffed happily and turned to Dalamar.

"We are quite rich, aren't we?"

He smiled back tentatively.

"I think you could say so."

His face became serious again. "I leave you alone now, Shalafi, if you haven't any further orders."

"No, no, I haven't. You helped me a lot today."

"Will you find the way to your resting rooms, Shalafi?"

Nima nodded.

"Yeah, I think so." She had to suppress a yawn. "See you tomorrow, Dalamar."

Then, he was gone. And she was alone with the bathtub.


	5. Reflections

ALS: According to my recent calculations Raistlin's plotline starts in chapter 10

Chickens: You're right, pickpocketing will occur. Nicknames, too.

And now, enjoy the kender and the bathtub

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Part 5 - Reflections

As soon as he was gone, Nima began to undress. She struggled with the robe for a while until she managed to get it off. Only when she was just in her -his- underwear, she realized that this was going to be an embarrassing experience. For the first time it really hit her that she was not only a human but had a different gender now. She considered not taking the bath and therefore not having to deal with this. Nevertheless she had to admit that sooner or later she would be confronted with the fact of being a male now. Suddenly a solution sprang up. She would do everything in a hurry, close her eyes, jump into the bath and just look elsewhere until she was dressed again. Yeah, that was a good plan. The plan worked until Nima realized that getting into a bathtub was very tricky when you had your eyes closed. While climbing into it, she hit her left knee on the wooden object.

Finally Nima made it into the water, a curse on her lips. She cursed again since the water was really hot. The first seconds she felt like a crayfish in her mother's cooking cauldron until she had adjusted to the temperature. Then she waited for relaxation to come. She waited several minutes but didn't feel relaxed a bit. Instead she felt tensed, embarrassed and... very much curious. What did the guy look like? Did he have the strange skin color all over his body? How was he built? Was he old? Or young? Should she dare a quick glance? Just very quick? Maybe just with one eye? Why not? He wouldn't know when he had his body back and at the moment nobody was here to object. Oh well...

Without further ado she opened one eye and peered down at herself, feeling her cheeks blush.

'Boy, am I skinny!' was her first thought. Gee, this man was really slender. Did he ever eat? No wonder he was sick. But the golden shimmer was everywhere as far as she could see that right now. According to the shape of his hands and arms, the man was in his late twenties or early thirties. She left out other parts of the body which she didn't want to investigate closely right now. What she had seen so far was freaky enough.

After a while Nima decided she had cooked herself long enough and reached for a towel. Some mindful soul, probably Dalamar, had deposited one next to the tub. It was large, soft and perfectly suitable for wrapping herself into it. Having finished the wet part, she investigated the room further. In a drawer she found the object she was looking for. A mirror. After having studied chest and arms, she wanted to see her new face. The face said much about a person.

Nima took the polished silver plate and held it in front of her face. Her reflection made her gasp. She looked like a nightmare. The hair was white like Hrongars. The face was golden just like the rest. Dark rings encircled the eyes. The lips where thin and pale, but those eyes... those eyes staring at her through the mirror where somehow inhuman. The pupils were shaped like hourglasses and the look of them made her shiver. She had the feeling of her very soul being sucked into the infinite depths behind those hourglasses. What had this guy done that he looked like this? She blinked several times until she got used to the sight in the mirror. At least a little bit. When this guy was in his early thirties, he shouldn't look like this. The haggard look of his face and the white hair made him look ten years older. She could nearly see his face aging in the mirror. Oh, boy, that Raistin-mage didn't live very healthy, didn't he?

"Somebody should do something about this." Nima pondered loudly and put the mirror down. She yawned. It was about time to go to her quarters and have a chat with the pillow.

When she was hurrying along dark floors and shadowy stairways, she had no doubts where the sickness she had felt when Dalamar had found her had come from. How could you not get sick, when you lived in a draughty and dusky place like that? People needed to go out in the sun, and they needed a proper nutrition! If she met the real Raistlin she would have to talk with him about that.

Eventually she stopped thinking about the mage's unhealthy way of life, but only after she had crawled into his bed and sleep had overwhelmed her.


	6. The Privacy of a Mage

Dear Blackjack, I appreciate your interest in my story. Thanks. Oh, by the way, concerning your request: In your dreams, moron!  
  
--  
  
--  
  
Part 6 - The Privacy of a Mage  
  
Nima awoke when the sun sent his first rays into her dusky chamber. Despite her exhaustion in the evening, she hadn't slept very well. In her uneasy slumber she had been chased by hourglass eyes. She was happy to be awake and alive. And she was hungry.   
  
"I feel as if I haven't eaten for years."   
  
Hey, reflection! Probably this guy HADN'T eaten for years. She had to do something about this. And while searching the mage's closet for fresh clothes, she made a decision. As long as she was stuck in this body she would get it in a proper shape. These deficits were nothing you couldn't cure with the right means. She would start with eating and sleeping on a regular basis, to make this Raistlin gain some weight. He also needed a lot more physical exercise. For a human, this body was weak. At home, she was an artist, a rope walker. She was not used to feeling so weak. But as he was still young enough, she could train his muscles and overall constitution a little bit while she was occupying his body. This was the least she could do for him. Yes, he would be very thankful when he came back. When she found Dalamar she had to ask him about the coughing-sickness. Maybe she could cure even that somehow. At least she didn't want to run around in a body which was so frail.  
  
After Nima had found something to dress -to her great disappointment nearly everything was black or brown- she left the quarters in search for the kitchen.   
  
She found it in the lower parts of the tower just by following the smell of freshly baked bread and tea. When she entered she found Dalamar preparing the breakfast. This man was just lovable. If all black mages had apprentices like that she should consider a change of career.   
  
"Morning!" she shouted enthusiastically.  
  
Dalamar all but jumped. But as he turned and faced her, his face was solemn as always.  
  
"I didn't expect you in the kitchen, master. But everything will be ready in a few moments."  
  
"Oh, fine. Take your time."  
  
Nima settled at the kitchen table.  
  
"Don't you want to have your meal in your study as always?" he asked surprised.  
  
Nima didn't know what to answer.   
  
"Um... the kitchen is quite a good place to eat, don't you think? I mean this is more practical, we don't have to carry the dishes and everything around."  
  
"Whatever you say, master."   
  
Dalamar put fruits, bread, tea and other things that looked delicious on the kitchen table while Nima was busy looking around. From all rooms she had seen so far in this residence she liked the kitchen most. The cooking place and the stove reminded her of home.   
  
As soon as Dalamar had seated himself in front of her, she dove into the food.   
  
"Vevy 'Ood" she mumbled. He replied nothing and helped himself. For a while none of them spoke. Dalamar seemed not quite the talkative type and Nima totally occupied herself with hot scones and butter. It was what Nima's mother called a greedy silence, when nobody would speak because everybody had his mouth full.  
  
Later, when they had finished, Nima went upstairs into the study room of the mage. She wondered why Dalamar had refused her offer to help with the dishes. She had asked him, they lived alone in this house together. Did he do the whole housework on his own? It would have been just fair to help him a little, but he had looked so perplexed at her suggestion to wash the dishes herself and him having some leisure time that she had put the idea aside. She had the feeling of having made a mistake. After all, this mage seemed to have a tricky personality. He was difficult to act out. Maybe politeness was not one of his qualities.   
  
Yeah, this was probably due to his supposed evilness. Maybe she should try to behave more evil. But otherwise, where was the use of being evil? Such behavior made people angry at you and Nima didn't want to make Dalamar angry. Or anybody else. At least not at the moment.   
  
As soon as she had reached the study, she forgot her thoughts about evil people. It was a room with a lot of arcane things. She was alone and able to do every mischief she wanted to. Excited, Nima forgot anything else.   
  
She had just begun to rummage through a particularly interesting shelf which contained a shrunken head, a lion's paw and other things Nima had never seen before, as Dalamar entered.  
  
"Shalafi, what are you doing? May I help you?"  
  
He didn't trust her a bit, didn't he? By innocently offering his help he made sure she was not repeating the accident of yesterday or something like that. Maybe he mistrusted her because of the way she was behaving.  
  
Although this was very likely just an excuse for him to observe her movements, he was the only person she could ask for assistance in this mess. 'Careful now, Nima, don't talk to much' she reminded herself before she addressed him.  
  
"Yeah, I'm trying to find out what happened yesterday that caused the excha- exceptional memory loss... I suffered. The problem is that I can't remember what kind of magic I performed that lead to these severe consequences." Nima said as gravely as she could and hoped that he hadn't noticed her slip of the tongue. If he had, he didn't show it.  
  
"I see..." he mused, " the problem is that you didn't tell me what you planned. Just that you were to perform an experiment which should grant you more powers in order to gain access to-"   
  
He stopped himself.   
  
Interesting. Maybe she was not the only one trying to keep some secrets. Very interesting.  
  
"In order to gain access to what?" Nima retorted.  
  
"In order to gain access to more power than you already have." he said, his tone lacking any kind of emotion.  
  
She was sure that was not what he had wanted to say in the first place. But anyway...  
  
"I know there exist spells to erase memories from a victims mind, but surely you didn't do that to yourself." Dalamar went on, trying to get back to the original subject of the conversation. "I think there also exist spells to make subjects regain their memory. But you never taught me anything like this. And I think such a thing would belong into the domain of clerical healing magic. I doubt it lies in the scope of arcane sorcery."  
  
Nima nodded. Fortunately he was not able to cast such a spell on her. She didn't really need a memory boost, but how was she to tell him that without being at the receiving end of a fireblade again?  
  
"Well, In that case..." Nima tried to sound as scholarly as she could, "we should find other means. I think a very good way would be to recall what kind of experiment I carried out and why it went wrong. By further analysis of our results, we may be able to invent an adequate counterstrategy."  
  
Didn't that sound clever and sophisticated? She had taken a leaf out of Hrongar's book. Nima preened at herself. She did a good job as a mage.   
  
Dalamar just nodded.   
  
"Whatever you say, master."  
  
He had said this quite a few times and it was a little bit unnerving getting this universal answer every time he wanted a discussion to end. At least, he had agreed on helping her.  
  
"Maybe I keep a diary or something in here..."  
  
They looked for the diary and for notes. They found many notes on a huge desk that stood near the southern wall. The furniture was very big and dominated the room. There were hundreds of papers and scrolls stored on the tabletop and in the compartments, but it was either absolutly unimportant or contained the same unreadable scribble like the papers in Raistlin's sleeping room.  
  
"Did I use a secret code or something like it?" Nima asked "her" apprentice.  
  
"Yes, you did, Shalafi. Its a question of safety. You carefully keep your knowledge from unwanted audience."  
  
"Oh. So that means we don't have access to my documents. Great. Absolutely great!"   
  
"I fear this is the case, Shalafi."  
  
"Oh."   
  
It hadn't occurred to Nima that finding a way back would be that difficult.   
  
"And what am I going to do now?" she said totally clueless. "Are you sure, I didn't tell you anything?"  
  
He looked thoughtful now.  
  
"No you- wait, maybe... yes. I remember, you mentioned you wanted to try Orsany's Crystal one of these days."  
  
--  
  
To be continued... 


	7. New Strategies

Again, thanks to my faithful reviewers.

Ahn-Li-Steffraini: Some call it paranoia, others experience... g

Chickens: LOL. Exactly like this! Hm... what about: "I see dead people."?

Guan: Glad you still like it.

Blackjack: Jep. An evil kender would be something special. Regarding your request: Just let me cite my favorite wizard, Lina Inverse: "Yeah, yeah whatever... FIREBALL!" Boom! "Mmm... fried reader... crunchy."

--

One explanation to this chapter may be expedient to avoid confusion. The story draws a lot from the RPG D&D. For those of you who don't play it: In D&D a spell exists which is called "Wish". This high level magic enables the caster to grant himself a wish of some kind. Its rarely used and very powerful, only legendary mages can cast it. This kind of spell plays a major role in the story.

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Part 7 - New Strategies

"Orsany's Crystal?"

He sighed softly and started to explain.

"It is an artifact. As far as I know, you read about it first in an old scroll from Zahakar. It was supposed to be a very powerful wish. But it was destroyed in the past and parted in two halves. It is said the parts have some power of their own. Maybe each of them also works like a wish of lesser power. But their power is nothing compared to the potential of the original. Your goal was to reunite both halves and restore Orsany's Crystal. Some months ago you took possession of one of the halves. You said you were going to study it. You suspected that maybe you could use your part to locate the other half. According to my information you had no clue about the whereabouts of the counterpart and you said you didn't want to raid every ancient ruin in Krynn in search for it."

"Oh." was all Nima had to say.

"And what did it look like?" she added after a moment.

"The last time I saw it, it looked like a cheap white crystal. Nothing too impressive. It had about the size of a coin."

"Was it like this?" Nima searched the folds of her robe and presented her talisman to Dalamar.

He nodded.

"That is the very same."

Well, that were finally some news. And what kind of news. So the mage had had a talisman that looked exactly like hers, he had done some magic with his part and that affected them both. That was a perfect explanation why her gem had reacted so suddenly. But it didn't explain why she was here now, trapped in his body. And it didn't help her out of it, or...?

"Hey, I could use my part and try to reverse everything. If it is a wish, I could just wish everything to turn back like it was, couldn't I?"

Dalamar shook his head.

"I do not recommend that. I don't know much where wishes are concerned, but their power is mighty and not to be taken lightly. We do not know what your exact words were, or whether you used a second spell. We don't even know if the wish works a second time without being recharged first. Without this knowledge it will be nearly impossible to produce a precise reversal effect."

"It could also prove that the wish is damaged. You said it works only properly if the halves are united again. Maybe this happened because the magic didn't work as it was supposed to be."

Dalamar smiled.

"Shalafi, you have never been a man who took unnecessary risks. I think you would have ensured that the spell would work right. You would only have triggered the wish if you had been sure it would function in the way you intended it."

"But you can never know!" Nima shouted impatiently. "Something must have gone wrong. Otherwise I wouldn't be here! I mean like this!"

Before Dalamar could answer anything the coughing returned. It was sudden and unexpected. Nima felt her new body stagger and shake convulsively. If Dalamar hadn't caught her in time she would have fallen. She clutched his arms. And the elf's strong grip held her upright. Several minutes went by ere the fit stopped and the pain left her lungs. To her they seemed like hours. She felt a metallic taste on her lips. Blood? Had she just coughed blood? She still clung to Dalamar.

"Why didn't you give me the potion like the last time?" she whispered hoarsely.

"I'm sorry." he answered softly and a little bit ashamed. "Normally we keep a dose of it in your study, but we used the last one yesterday and I forgot to replace it. Forgive me my failure, Shalafi."

Nima patted his shoulder.

"Don't worry. You can not think of everything. I surely gave you enough trouble in the last twenty-four hours."

He helped her sitting down in one of the comfortable chairs.

"Tell me, what kind of disease do I have?" she asked him as soon as she had stabilized her breath.

He shrugged.

"I don't know, Shalafi. You never speak about this. When your frail health is mentioned you keep saying this is the price you paid for your power. You say it is something nobody can cure."

Though his face was tranquil she saw pity in his eyes. Pity and concern. Poor elf. He surely liked his master a lot.

They sat in the study for a while, both of them contemplating depressive matters. None of them saw a way to get the situation back to normal again. Nima realized that in this tower she could find many interesting things, but none would help her to get back home. She was sick and not even Dalamar knew how to help. It looked like she couldn't do anything.

Nima refused to accept that fact. If she couldn't figure a way home, she could still stick to her former plan and restore Raistlin's health. If she already was stuck in his body she had to learn more about him. She had to adjust to being Raistlin at least for a while. Besides, she was mortally curious how anybody would have come to lead a life like this.

"We don't get many visitors, don't we?" she asked Dalamar.

He looked at her surprised by her total change of the topic.

"I guess we are not quite the most popular address in town." His words were accompanied by a little smile. "In fact, you preferred this place because it keeps unwanted visitors at bay, Shalafi."

"Really? Did I? I don't seem to have many friends."

He eyed her strangely.

"Well, you have... me." he said finally.

"So we are friends, you and I?" Nima returned the glance.

"We are master and apprentice."

He folded his hands uneasily. Nima chose to ignore the answer. Either her stare or the topic seemed to give him some trouble.

"Oh, and do I have any friends besides you?" she replied.

For an instant his self-control failed him and he stared dumbfounded at her words. However, he rearranged the mask of coolness all to soon and when he spoke his voice was emotionless as always.

"Well, Shalafi, you have a... brother."

Now it was Nima's part to stare dumbfounded at her comrade.

"What?! My only friends are my _kin_?"

"You never demanded friendship, Shalafi. It is not a priority in your life." he stated plainly.

Nima was left speechless. No demand for friends? Not a priority? That was surely something to chew on.

"I think in that case, lovers are not a "priority" either."

He shook his had. Nima sighed.

"And what do I do all day?" she asked slightly desperate.

"You are one of the most powerful mages on Krynn. Maybe you already surpassed them all. You devoted your life to magic. So have I."

Uhh, that sounded like he was the all-work-no-fun-type of person. That explained a lot.

"Ah, and is there a connection between my devotion to magic and the way I look? Have I been always like this or was this the outcome of another magical accident?"

Dalamar shook his had once more.

"I don't think so. But you never told much about your past. However you have been like this since I applied for apprenticeship, and I think you already where like this when you fought in the war of the lance. All I know is that both things, eyes and skin color were the outcome of your final test of sorcery. But I don't know the circumstances very well. This has been nearly a decade ago."

"Maybe it was an accident." Nima said gravely. "Or maybe not. If there was anybody to tell me more..."

"Maybe your brother could tell you."

Dalamar favored the idea. He wanted his Shalafi back. He had tried not to show it, but he was deeply worried about his master's mental state. It was obvious that Raistlin was not himself at the moment. Not only his memory had been affected, his whole personality seemed to have suffered a lot. Since there was no safe magical option to restore his memory, they had to find other ways. Maybe a meeting with his brother Caramon would help Raistlin's mind grasp again what was out of reach at the moment. The young elf suspected his Shalafi to suffer from a severe kind of shock. Due to a backflow of magical energies, perhaps. Such cases had happened before. If this was just a shock induced by a mental overload then it was likely to heal sooner or later. Probably the healing process could be accelerated by reviving remembrances from the past. If his Shalafi's memory was stimulated in the right way, it would, perhaps, come back. At least it was worth trying.

And if by some strange twist of fate, the man in front of him was a persistent infiltrator though, than this journey would keep him away from the secrets the tower concealed. As long as Dalamar wasn't entirely sure that this man was truly his Shalafi, he owed him to keep his secrets hidden.

"We should probably visit your brother." Dalamar said. At the same time his Shalafi uttered the same Idea. Dalamar raised an eyebrow while his Shalafi chuckled at the coincidence.

"Jeez, I see we're going along the same lines of thinking." Raistlin said. "If you don't get any further where you are, just change the place. And by the way, I could use the feeling of sunshine on my skin and fresh air in my lungs. Yeah, let's pack for a trip."

Dalamar chose to ignore the exited grin on his Shalafi's face and nodded.

"Whatever you say, master."


	8. A Brother's gift and a strange meeting

Thanks too all reviewers, you motivate me to update quickly.

Ahn-Li: Yes. I had something like that in mind. But think further:

_Tika picking up frying pan - "I can help"_

_Caramon and Dalamar as Tika swings pan at Raistlin - "No!"_

_Nima: "Oh, hi sister-in-law! I'm so happy to see you, I missed the family so much and you are all so very nice, and how about us making some scrambled eggs in this nice frying pan I have here?"_

_Tika: "Hey, that looks exactly like my fry- hey! Where is my frying pan???"_

_Nima: "Don't know, I just found this one recently." _

_Dalamar: Shalafi, may I borrow this frying pan for a second?"_

_Nima: "Yes, sure!"_

_bonk_

_Caramon: "Dalamar, you treacherous elf, why did you knock out my brother?"_

_Dalamar: "Sorry. But from time to time I have to remind HIM and MYSELF that we're EVIL."_

Guan: Just give poor Dalamar the credit that the situation is really confusing...

Orange?!: Jep. And it gets even worse, her mother is named grapefruit! Seems, I had too much DragonballZ in my tender youth...

Blackjack: Oh Dear. People in fiction never go to the toilet, even less they have menstruation. Regarding the gobling-issue: NO!

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Part 8 - A Brother's Gift and a Strange Meeting

"Three! I can get at least three!"

Sweat poured down Nimas forehead, as she desperately tried to produce some decent pushups in Raistlin's sleeping room. After Dalamar's and her mutual decision to leave the tower the next morning, she had withdrawn into Raistlin's quarters, and begun to accomplish plan A. Getting this body in shape. Soon she had realized what amount of training she would need. Just by sheer stubborness she made these muscles obey her will. Then she sagged on the floor, panting. Nima wondered if she would ever be able to stand up again, when Dalamar knocked at the door. Either to spy at her or to bring her lunch. Maybe both. Aching she raised herself from the fine carpet and opened the door. Dalamar raised just an eyebrow when he saw her standing in the door like she was, exhausted, sweaty and panting. Nima didn't know how to explain everything without making it all worse, so she just grabbed a bowl with soup from his hands, hissed "Thanks!" and shut the door again. She just didn't want to know what he might think of her now. But whatever it was, it could not be as bad as: "I'm sorry, Dalamar. I trained my muscles maybe for the first time in years, but you know what, I'm not Raistlin, I'm just a frustrated kender who wants her former strength and agility back."

No, let him think what he wanted. She had other things to worry about. A soup getting cold before being eaten, for instance...

After having her stomach filled, Nima let herself fall on the bed. She felt full from the soup and exhausted from the exercise. With nothing else to do at the moment she closed her eyes and was about to fall asleep when she remembered something. The chest under the bed! She had totally forgotten to investigate it further. Well, that was something to do.

Nima jumped from the bed, reached for the wooden box and turned it in her hands. It was covered with slight traces of dust. Highly curious she lifted the cover.

The box contained two little carved figurines. The handicraft was more or less primitive, obviously the work of a beginner. But the figures were painted. They looked similar, only different in clothing. The first figure, was supposed to wear a robe, if Nima guessed correctly. The second figure was painted in a way that implied armor or something like that. The tiny wooden figures were primitive but cute. After all Nima had seen so far, she wouldn't have expected the mage to keep something so sentimental like childhood toys. Maybe even he had a sentimental side. Even if he seemed to hide it very well. Since these figues were the only things in here she really liked, she didn't want them to break by chance. Carefully she stored the chest under the bed again. Nima didn't notice that the figures had slid trough her fingers right into a tiny pouch on her belt. She laid down on the bed again wondering if the figures had a special meaning to the mage, when the quietness of the room and her full stomach made her tired again.

_She was in a hall of glass or crystal. The walls, the floor, the ceiling, everything was made of a strange crystalline texture. Sun shone through it. Hundreds of lightbeams were broken and reflected, bathing the room in light and myriads of colors. It was like being inside a rainbow. Or a caleidoscope. It was beautiful and warm, but with all the light swirling around it was impossible to figure out how big the room was or how it was built. She wasn't able to distinguish were the walls ended and the ceiling begun._

_A closer look around revealed one dark spot among the glittering colors. Whatever it was, it didn't belong here. It disturbed the perfection. Nima went into the direction of the disturbance. As soon as she moved she realized that something had changed. She looked down on herself and smiled. She was herself again. Tiny, cute, kenderlike... She had reached the spot. This had to be the center of the crystal hall, she didn't know where this realization came from but she was sure she was right. And there, right in the middle of it all, stood somebody. Untouched by all the light surrounding them. A man. A human. He wore a black robe, the same she had seen so often these days. He looked into another direction and the only thing she could see was his back. White hair flowed down on his shoulders. A slender golden hand lingered casually around a mage's staff. Could that be him? Raistlin?_

_She heard a soft dark voice, speaking only one word. "Shirak." _

_An dark orb on the tip of the staff burst into light and the ever present colors grew even brighter. Suddenly he turned and focused on her. She had seen this stare once. In a mirror. Directed at herself. Hourglass eyes stared at her in anger, pierced her thoughts and looked into her soul. Ui, this man was really eerie. But the eeriness went along with a strange kind of attractiveness. The furious look of his golden face made her skin crawl._

_"Kender!" he snarled. "You have something that belongs to me. Give me my body back!"_

_Nima jumped two steps backward._

_"I didn't do it!" she cried. Swiftly, he moved towards her. She couldn't see his feet moving under the long black robe which gave her the impression of him floating above the ground._

_"This was not supposed to happen!" he hissed into her face. He had grabbed her by the sleeves and she felt a strange heat radiate from him. "What did you do, stupid kender?"_

_Nima panicked. He was too near and the pure scorn in those dark eyes sent shivers through her backbone._

_"It was you! You alone and your stupid ritual! Make it change back! Back as it was!" She shouted at him and struggled against his grip. When she successfully placed a kick against his left leg, he let go of her. And screaming she fell... fell into darkness once more._

With a muffled cry on her lips, Nima shot into a sitting position. She was back in the mage's sleeping quarters. Back in his body. A dream. A strange dream that was all. Nima took some deep breaths and relaxed a little. Then she felt a aching in her left leg. Wasn't that the spot where she had kicked Raistlin in her dream? Hastily she shoved the clothing back and investigated the aching spot. It was nothing to worry about. Just a slight bruise. But where did it come from? From the dream? No this couldn't be. It had been just a dream after all.

All of a sudden a single insight set her mind at ease. That had to come from yesterday. From her awkward efforts to get into a bathtub with closed eyes. Relieved she sank back on the mattress. That was it. Just her own clumsiness and nothing more...

She sighed. Back to the training...


	9. In the Eye of the Beholder

Thank you all for still responding to me. I feed on that like a lich on human life... err... maybe not the best example... err...

Guan: LOL. We all rather pity poor Dalamar since he gets degraded/ promoted from "apprentice" to "kendersitter"... Tough job!

chickens: Here it goes...

Kinryuu: I think I'll have a plausible explanation for my planned romance at least I hope so.

Dally: Thanks as always. ;)

Freesnow: ROFL. Not quite the same, that would be boring. But Tika and a slap in somebody's face will have something to do with it. BTW: regarding style and spelling I depend heavily on Dally's help, I think the story has become much better since the good gods of writing sent me this Beta-reader.

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Part 9 - In the Eye of the Beholder

"I'm coming! I'm ready now!"

Nima jumped down the last stairs of a long stairway and nearly into the arms of Dalamar who awaited her on the first floor of the tower of high sorcery. He looked questioningly at the large bag Nima carried over her shoulder.   
"Just some useful things for the trip", she explained.

Right after breakfast she had gone on a hasty tour through the mage's personal rooms, the kitchen and the library. Some things had fallen into her bag just by chance. Several potions had made their way into Nima's possession this way. They had funny Names written on them. One was called "Veritas", "Potence" another. Nima had no idea what that ment, but surely it was absolutely necessary to accomplish their mission. Just by chance had sweet smelling herbs and two nicely sparkling jewels practically jumped into her baggage. Accompanied by some other stuff, clothes most of them. Dalamar looked intrigued.

"Did you remember anything?" he asked her expectantly.

Nima shook her had. First confused than slightly abashed.

"No, I just thought they might be useful. And their mine after all."

Dalamar didn't answer anything. He preferred to ignore comments like these.

"Well... Shalafi... maybe you will find this useful, too."

Only then Nima realized that he held something in his hand. It was a long staff, like the one from her dream. No, not like. It WAS the one from her dream! That had to be Raistlin's mage staff.

"I took this from the laboratory. I was sure you would not want to go without it." His voice was sweet and friendly as he handed the staff over to her. But his all to friendly smile was accompanied by a sly glance. Slowly she took it.

Dalamar waited anxiously for the moment his Shalafi touched the object. The idea had come to him during the night to use the staff of Magius as one final test of Raistlin's identity. The staff was secured with different offensive spells who were simply triggered by the touch of a stranger. Raistlin had made sure that there were only very few people in this world who were able to carry the artifact and stay unharmed. If this man was a trickster disguised as his master, the staff of Magius could probably see a difference where he, Dalamar, had seen none. Then, the hand of his "Shalafi" closed around it...

The dark elf waited for a reaction to come but nothing happened. Raistlin just weighed the staff in his hand and thanked him. Dalamar was not sure if he had to feel relieved or even more concerned.

Nima on the other hand was excited. This was a mage's staff. A true mage's staff! A real artifact! She had never been so near her fantasy of being a mage as in this moment. She new, this thing could make light. She had seen this in her dream. Stop! How had she dreamt about this? Since when were her dreams able to foretell the future? She hadn't known that this staff existed and nevertheless she had seen it ignite tonight. Maybe this was just coincidence. Maybe all mage's staffs looked like this. Ah, surely this was nothing to worry about. 'Nima', she teased herself, 'you've started to think like a biggie. You worry to much.'

She shrugged, took the staff and thanked Dalamar absently. He bowed slightly. Together they crossed the entrance hall and had nearly reached the door, as something occurred to Nima. Maybe she could try something.

"Shirak." she said and watched the staff expectantly.

In an instant, the orb beamed and bathed the hall in a silver light.  
Nima stared at the orb, delighted, under the eyes of an astonished Dalamar.

"Shalafi? Did you just remember something?"

"I think so." she murmured not really paying attention to Dalamar's question.

She had done magic!!! She, Nima Teketoll, had done magic!!! Real magic! What an experience!!!

Dalamar was likewise happy but not for the same reason. It worked. His theory worked! When even the staff of Magius had accepted the mage, he had to be his Shalafi. And by being confronted with something so dear to him as this artifact, Raistlin's memory had returned. At least some part that was connected with the staff. He had remembered the right command. That was a first step into the right direction.

Dalamar and Nima exchanged a grin.

"And now, lets go!" Nima exclaimed while Dalamar opened the front door. "Onward to... hey, where does my brother live?"

They had just made some steps out of the door when Dalamar suddenly tensed and stopped dead in his tracks. Nima was still engaged with her new staff. She didn't see the elf halting and bumped against him.

"What?"

He pointed up in the air. Their "home" was surrounded by some trees which formed a little groove. The elf pointed right on top of them. Something moved in there. Something that looked like a ball with eyes. It glided right over the treetops and then hid between them.

"What was that?" Nima said. "That was not a bird. It looked strange."

"No." he responded gravely. "It was not a bird. It was something worse. Much worse. It was a beholder."

"A beholder? What's a beholder?"

Dalamar sighed. Could that really be, that he had to explain his master what a beholder was? Shouldn't it be the other way round?

"A beholder is a creature that can be summoned by mages. They are ideal as spies and guardians due to their outstanding ability to see everything in reach."

"Oh."

"Somebody tries to observe us, probably. We have to be careful."

"Oh... Let me guess, I have no friends but dozens of enemies in return?"  
"Well, some."

"Oh."

Dalamar saw his Shalafi biting his lip. Suddenly Raistlins features brightened.

"Maybe it was just here by chance. Maybe it was just looking for its master. You know, like a dog."

Dalamar was at a loss of words.

'Oh, Nuitari, if this is a test of my loyalty and my nerves then please, what what am I supposed to do?'

Since his master was not able or willing to take the matter seriously, it seemed that it lay in his hands alone to guide his Shalafi safely to his brother's home. He could only be careful and hope that Raistlin regained his memory as fast as possible.

They were halfway through the groove, when Nima looked back to the tower. It was really dark and even seemed to imbibe the sunlight.

"Dalamar are you sure, we didn't forget anything?" Nima teased the elf, just for the fun of confusing him.

"Yes." he said slowly.

"Did you turn out the stove?"

"Yes."

"Did you extinguish all the candles?"  
"Yes."  
"Did you feed the undead in the cellar?"

"They don't have to be fed."

Nima's laughter died in her throat. Dalamar looked absolutely serious.

"We... we have undead in the cellar?!? This was a joke, wasn't it?!"  
Dalamar answered nothing but went on, an intriguing little smile in the corner of his mouth. Nima followed him with consternation. At least she hoped he had been joking.

--

--

So, next time we leave these two alone and finally it will be revealed what happened to Raistlin....


	10. Welcome to the Jugglers

I know this is a bit short. The next chapter will be twice as long, I promise.

Guan: More kender for you in the next chapters...

Ahn-Li: Answer should have come via email.

BTW: Does anybody know the correct plural of "kender"? We guessed it would be "kender" just as well.

--

--

10 - Welcome to the Juggler's

About 40 hours earlier somewhere on Krynn:

Raistlin awoke slowly. The dark veils of unconsciousness still clouded his mind and he felt confused not knowing what had happened or where he was. He turned his head hoping to drive away the darkness surrounding his eyes. The movement caused him to moan softly. Every muscle in his neck ached. Something light moved to the left of him. His sight blurred still but got clearer every moment. He tried to sit up, when he felt a warm hand caressing his forehead. He wriggled under the touch. He heard a soft voice speaking. Something about this voice was familiar. He had heard it before but he couldn't remember where.

"Awake so soon, my friend? I should have known. Such an active mind."

Raistlin saw a white shadow leaning over him. He tried to rise up once more, but every movement was pain.

"It's not the time for being awake, my friend. Its not yet time for us to meet. Sleep now, sleep and rest." the voice murmured.

Raistlin tried to protest but all to soon the darkness came back, soft, warm and lulling and then sleep overwhelmed him.

When he awoke a second time, he felt much better. Tranquil and relaxed. Slowly he opened his eyes and looked surprised on a alien wooden ceiling. Right above him was an open window and he heard the sounds of human voices and the noises of an encampment outside. He was not in his laboratory anymore. Had he been transported after invoking the spell? And where was he now?

The view of the ceiling was substituted by the sight of a pointed eared head. A female, smiling face filled his view and a thrilled voice yelled: "You're awake!"

In an instant other heads appeared. Several exulting voices mixed up and tangled.

"Nima is awake!"

"Brilliant! That's my daughter..."

"Nima! Nima! How are you?"

"She doesn't let magic get the best of her!"

"Nima, say something!"

"Hrongar said you should feel better. The old herbsmaster gave you a potion."

"You are feeling better, are you dear?"  
"Nima, Nima, can you come out and play?"

"No, Nima has to stay in bed."

"But you're strong, girl. I always knew that. That's my daughter!"

"Nima, why don't you say anything?"

"You are right, she ist very quite."

"Maybe she's gone's mute as a maggot."

"STOP THIS!"

The talking ceased. Raistlin felt three pairs of eyes following every of his movements as he bolted upright. Three kender stared at him. A male and a female. A kenderchild sat at his feet_. _But there was something going on with these kender, Raistlin realized. They were much to large. Out of proportion and if it hadn't been for their round happy faces, he would have taken them for elves. The oversized kenders watched him open mouthed. And for Nuitari's sake, they didn't age!

"Maybe she is still confused about everything. For all that explosions going on and such." the male kender said.

"Maybe she wants to eat something. Honey do you want to eat?"

"No." Raistlin said. Crawling backwards.

"Maybe she has fever. She looks so pale." The male kender wondered.

The female leaned forward.

"Honey, let me feel your temperature."

"NO!"

Raistlin patted away the female's outstretched hand.

"What is going on in here?" he asked as calm and menacingly as he could. "Explain yourselves!"

Not only the kender were out of proportion. His voice had changed, too. It sounded more high-pitched than usual.

"Yeah", the female began. "Honey, you have been victim to a magical manifestation. I told your father not to give you this magical stuff, but he didn't listen in the least, I warned you both, things like that can happen with those wizardy thingies. Well, nobody knows what happened. Naranja said the thingie exploded and everybody heard it and we heard her scream and, darling, the wagon was just a mess, a mess! Just like the time when the furious air elemental had manifested in here. And you were right there, unconscious, and then we brought you to Hrongar and he said it wouldn't be that bad. He said you just had to sleep a little while and then you would be as healthy as a newborn baby, that's what happened. Basically."

Unbelieving, Raistlin stared at them. Then at himself. And back at them. And then back at himself, again. At first he was too shocked to accept what his eyes and ears told him. And when he finally realized what this all meant, Raistlin wished he was unconscious again.


	11. Making Friends

Thanks again to my steadfast reviewers. :D I hope Raistlin is not too much OOC in the next chapters.

Guan: Nobody seems to know for sure it seems. We had diverging opinions about it. My feeling for English word-formation is not very trustworthy. Finally Dally (the beta-reader) and I agreed on "kender" as a plural. I think as long as no one objects, I will just employ that for the story. Otherwise I would have to do a lot of correction work and as long as nobody really minds...

So, by the power of Typo the great god of creative-writing I hereby declare "kender" to be the official plural for this story and for this story only...

**11- Making Friends**

"Honey are you sure, you are not hungry? Young people have to eat a lot. Especially when they have been attacked by wizard thingies."

"No." Raistlin said for the fifth or sixth time during the last ten minutes.

The first moments had been awful. The moments following the confused introduction had not been better. Things couldn't have gone more wrong. He was trapped. Surrounded by kender. And caught in a gods' cursed kender's body. A female kender's body, whose mother persistently tried to feed him like a baby by wielding a spoon in front of his face.

"No."

"But-"  
"NO!"

Kender! They just didn't seem to grab the meaning of 'No'.

"Leave me alone."

Rasitlin closed his eyes and lied down again. He needed time to work this out. To rethink the situation.

"Oh, Honey, if you want to sleep more, you should have told us."

Raistlin bit off a sarcastic comment about Kenders and their abilities to understand and just ignored the annoying female.

Finally, they left him. He breathed deeply. Kender. He disliked these annoying little creatures at first sight.

His mind focused on the overall riddle. What had happened? He remembered the last moments in his own laboratory. He had activated the wish. His half of Orsany's Crystal. His formulation to the wish had been clear and simple. 'I wish to have your counterpart in my study'. It had been more than easy. Orsany's Crystal was a neutral wish. Not good, not evil. Just a wish. A wish that fulfilled your desire literally and instantly. Not like a wish of evil that fulfilled a desire in the most corrupt way possible, while on the other side, good wishes performed their magic in the best possible way. The neutral just did what you wanted it to do. He had hoped that the other half of the Crystal would just appear in his laboratory, but he even had calculated being transported somewhere. He had expected ruins, dungeons, even another sphere, but not a kender home.

A transport had been performed, oh yes. But why had the spell affected his shape and turned him into a kender? He shook his had.

What if the wish had taken his command too literally? If he had understood the female kender's chatter correctly, the girl had had an artifact that had exploded. What if she had been wielding the counterpart and the so called explosion was just the manifestation of the spell-energy? He cursed. If that was true, the wish had transported him to the counterpart, but it had forgotten to transport his body in addition. Why had it left out the material component?

He needed proof if his theory was right. Raistlin stood up and looked around. If the girl had been in charge of the second part of Orsany's Wish, than maybe the part was here in the room still. He found it lying on the table. The stupid kenders had of course forgotten about it.

He looked at it. It looked exactly like his part. A milk-white stone. Or maybe it was his part. If the wish had transported the counterpart to his laboratory as he had advised it, then this had to be his half. Nevertheless it could very well also be the kender's half, while his crystal was still in his tower. None of the two possibilities did explain why it had transported him into the girl's body.

Deeply in thought he took the milky crystal and let it absently slide trough his fingers. Years of incessant studies of magic had made him sensitive for the flow and feeling of power. His fingertips prickled. The stone practically pulsated with energy. Raistlin stared at it in surprise. This artifact was different to the one he had tested in the past weeks. The power had nearly doubled. Then it couldn't be his half. That half should have spent its magic after having been invoked. Still, he felt the intense touch of energetic power. How was that to fit into his theory? Raistlin had to admit that he actually was confused.

Which half was that now? And what had happened to it?

If he still considered the possibility that it was his old half that had been transported with him, some magical energy must have flowed into it. He had seen the magic manifest and leave the crystal. If it was the kender's part, then the wish had failed completely, then his part was very likely in his study still. Maybe the connection between both wishes had been closer than any living mage could have expected. What if the energy of his wish had not evaporated like normal spell energy, but had been transferred into the other half? Which now contained the whole power of Orsany's Wish?

Raistlin let the crystal glide into one of the many pockets a kender tunic contained. He had to study this object further. He needed to rest his theory on facts and he had to find out why the wish hadn't worked.

Suddenly he noticed that somebody was near. In the next moment he felt a slight sting in the back of his head. Hastily he turned around. Nobody was in the room. He was alone. Still, he had the feeling that something was not like it should be. He observed the floor. He saw a tiny pebble lying there that hadn't been lying there before. When he bent down to investigate the pebble he felt the stinging again. He had been hit by another pebble. Who dared to attack him like this? If this was a joke...

Raistlin decided he would teach his unknown torturer a lesson. The pebbles had hit him at the back. So they must have been thrown at him from the outside. From the open window behind him. He sneaked to the window as silently as he could. It was interesting how easy sneaking was when you were a kender. No wonder they were all thieves and scoundrels. It came to them naturally. A few soft steps had brought him near to the tiny window. He positioned himself next to it, pressed his back to the wall and waited...

He didn't have to wait long. Only seconds afterwards a little red head appeared in the window obviously searching for somebody in the room. In a fast move Raistlin flung himself upon the head and entangled it with both arms. He had decided he wouldn't waste precious spells in that situation. This could be handled by physical means alone. After catching his prey, Raistlin allowed himself to study the intruder more closely. The head belonged to the body of a gnome. His head was inside the room, fixed by Raistlin while the rest of him dangled out of the window. He clung to the windowframe in order to prevent being gagged. It looked like an uncomfortable position. Raistlin smiled when the gnome produced choking sounds. The gnome was small, even for one of his kind. His red hair stood like flames from his head and his large eyes were bulging out from lack of air. He seemed to be a young specimen.

"Nima.." the gnome cracked. "Let go of... me."

"Why were you eavesdropping?" Raistlin questioned the gnome without making an attempt to let the struggling youth go. "And why were you shooting pebbles at me?"  
"Don't be so mean." the gnome answered suffocating. "I wanted to say 'hi'. ... And test your alertness."

"Well, did I pass?"

"Yes! But... but you were slow... only got it at the... third time... Let me go now?"

Raistlin pondered that murder wouldn't probably be the most inconspicuous behaviour, but he still had to teach the imp a lesson. He had not made up his mind whether to let the gnome go or not when he suddenly jerked and lessened his grip around the gnome's neck. The tiny youth had only waited for that moment. He wrangled himself out of the grip and jumped back on the round. He stood under the window taking the time to laugh at Raistlin. But when he saw the expression on Raistlin's face he slowly retreated.

"Ahhh... Nima... don't look like you want to kill me..." He took one step backwards.

"You will surely not mind a little tease among friends... you know, you can really frighten people with that stare..." He took another step backwards.

"You know what, I'll get back when you've cheered up a little bit." With those words he turned and run.

Raistlin still stood behind the window and fumed. The impertinent boy had dared to tickle him!

Brilliant! Years of dangerous adventures and hardest study, finally rewarded with the title of master of past and present, only to become a target for an idle gnomish prankster. Could things become even more humiliating?

As if the gods wanted to prove him that they could, the door opened just at that moment and a handsome human gypsy girl climbed into his wooden refuge.

"Hi, Sweetheart. I need your advice."


	12. Fortune Telling and Other Secrets

Thanks to all readers who take the time to leave a little comment. Also those not mentioned in my ramblings below. You people are lovable and make Petalwing very very happy!

Ahn-Li: Raistlin? Holiday? Yeah, and next time someone says he's a woman... um... well... ok... Maybe afterwards Raistlin writes his memoirs: _"The Mage and the Morons"_ Raistlin: "Actually it felt like being transported back in time. Back to the good old days of boy-scout camps. My brother used to love it. Guess what, I hated it! They just didn't give me time to read!"

kinryuu: You got me on this one. I had some trouble to portray Raistlin during these first chapters and writing them came not as easy to me as usual. Halfway through the scene in this chapter I muttered about the sucker who invented this freaking plot. dough However I think, Raistlin will act more in character in the end of this story arc and later on. I just needed time to write me into the right "mood". Does that make sense to anybody? Anyway, you'll probably criticize that Raistlin doesn't even try to behave like a kender. But at least this will be explained later on.

Guan: Maybe you are right. But I really don't claim that I am correct about the "kender" thing. I was just confused with two options. My own feeling didn't help me much. I finally decided to put one in here and doing that consequently. That's all. If anybody feels really offended by that, in that case I would be sorry, but well... At least they'd have to write me a review. LOL Oh and, regarding the last chapter title: That was supposed to be a little ironic... ok... it was probably not one of the best jokes I ever had... Petalwing blushes and tiptoes away leaving a new chapter behind

**Part 12 - Fortune Telling and Other Secrets**

The newcomer was probably around eighteen years old. She had raven black hair which hung over her shoulders in two long braids. Her skin was of a darker taint showing her gypsy heritage. As well as the simple yellow dress that clothed her slender form. Tiny golden bracelets spangled her neck and arms. She moved with the grace of youth. A youth that didn't wither instantly for a change. It was irritating and strangely relieving for one who was used to constantly watch time's grip devouring every living creature. Raistlin sat back again on the bed. He crossed his arms and regarded the girl, a surly expression on his face.

"What do you want?"

"Are you better, Nima? Your mom said you wanted to sleep a little but I just saw Knoblar running from the wagon, so I suspected you would be awake by now."

Raistlin guessed that he had just heard the name of the impertinent gnome. However, he didn't react but waited silently for the gypsy to tell what she wanted or to go away.

"I'll take your silence for affirmation, cutie." the girl said after a while and seated herself on a tiny chair next to his bed.

"Sometimes I just don't know." she began in a conspirative tone. Raistlin forebode the direction this talk was taking and it didn't please him in the least.

"You know, I asked the cards today. Mommy says I have to try harder to evoke my talent. So I took the chance and asked the cards what had happened to you and me with the necklace."

Raistlin raised an eyebrow. Did the girl speak about foretelling the future by laying cards? He knew that some gypsies claimed to know this art. Didn't they have a special set of cards which were known as Tarokka? He had never believed in this kind of augury. True seers didn't need such tools. This "art" was just for fooling the gullible. But at least that topic was better then what he had feared at first - a conversation about love affairs.

"And?" he asked casually interested.

"During the session I ended up with some strange cards. And I'm not entirely sure what they could mean."

Raistlin snickered to himself. Wasn't that always the problem with fortune telling?

"So?"

The girl made a mysterious gesture while leaning forward. She spoke in hushed tones by know.

"I found the Tower positioned in the center."

"And?"

At the same time, the wizard pondered at least ten possibilities how to spend his time in more expedient ways. Was this conversation leading to any point? Instead of answering the gypsy turned to herself and drew some cards from between the several layers of skirts she wore.

"Here."

She shoved the card in his face. The picture showed a dark tower struck by a lightning. A figure fell from each side. A man to the right and a woman to the left.

"The tower symbolizes a violent change of condition. It normally only appears when a life is about to change essentially. Mostly in a very confusing chaotic way. A situation takes over and carries you away."

"Aha." He didn't spend too much attention at her explanation. He only participated in the conversation because he hoped to extract some useful hints on the recent state of affairs in this camp or whatever it was.

"And then I saw the Magician." Nervously she handed him another card revealing a wizard at his work table. "And the Knight of Swords. He stands for a man of darkness and cunning. Do you know what that means? Two of the greater Arcana and a person's card?"

She was excited by now and didn't even wait for Raistlin to react.

"That means something tremendous is about to happen. And a wizard will have to do with it. But still, I cannot work out the full meaning. Who could that be? There are no wizards with the show. I mean besides Hrongar and he doesn't count. He is no true wizard."

"A wizard." Raistlin repeated. Her last statement had attracted his attention. So there was a magic user here. Could this person be blamed for what had happened to him? He had to find out more.

"What do you mean, no true wizard?"

The gypsy girl gave him an irritated glance.

"You know Hrongar. He is neither dark nor cunning. He gave up his profession as a wizard and became an alchemist."

That was interesting. Which wizard would quit being a wizard for the position of an alchemist among superstitious gypsies? Maybe someone who wanted to hide from the conclave? How interesting...

The girl went on.

"I think that means that we will meet a powerful wizard very soon. Somebody who may affect our fate. I pray to Mishakal he will be young and handsome. And I want to be prepared, just in case. And since you fancy wizards so much, Nima, you must tell me everything you know about them."

Raistlin closed his eyes wearily. He felt a big headache coming. Spontaneously he altered his theory. This was no gypsy camp and he had not been transported. He had probably just died while casting the spell and gone to the Abyss. And this was the damned gods' way of punishing him for his sins!


	13. You Make Me Wanna Shout

A/N: Thanks to all you nice people who left me a review. :D

Chickens: The candidate gets 100 points and wins the fridge. I loved the little preserver.

Guan: Glad you don't mind.

Kinryuu and Lady Valura: The mystery will be solved, but all in good time... (Anybody want to give a guess?)

Blackjack: Normally I don't insult readers, but you are the exception to the rule! Blood for the blood god and skulls for his throne! May the mighty Khorne slay you and splatter your- well, ok, we'll stay PG-13, but you get my point, eh? Regarding your request: NO, MORON!

**Part 13 - You Make Me Wanna Shout**

"Tell me all about wizards, Nima" Naranja repeated her request. "What do I have to know?"

He scowled.

"What do you expect me to answer? Best behavior is not to get on their nerves!"

Naranja ignored the slight sarcasm in her friend's voice.

"Oh, c'mon, Nima. You fancy wizards so much. There must be something important about them. Doesn't the spellbook say anything?"

"Spellbook?" Raistlin asked alerted.

Naranja was obviously taken aback by this question.

"Now you are seriously making me worry, Nima. The spellbook of your father." She explained.

So the kender had a spellbook. He couldn't believe it. On the other hand, they were kender. It was probably better to ask what they didn't have than what they had. He had to find out if one of them dealt in wizardry or witchcraft.

"Where?" he asked the gypsy.

She shrugged.

"I don't know, maybe in the drawer over there."

He stood up and searched the drawer. And indeed, in one of the compartments lay an old manuscript bound in leather. It had a slight aura of magic around it. Raistlin reeled. If only this meant spells to memorize! He felt his own memorized spells being present in his mind, but without his own scrolls to study them, they would be gone after use. This was the main reason why he hadn't worked magic yet. That and the lack of proper components. Nevertheless, he had to be careful with his powers as long as he was stranded in this strange environment. But if the spells in that book were of use he would have additional resources at his disposal.

He stood there for several moments, staring at the book. Calculating. Behind him he heard Naranja hem.

"Krynn to Nima, Krynn to Nima. I'm here, helloho!"

Before he could deal with the book he had to get rid of her company.

"Look." he began. "Before I can give you the information you want, I have to study this book... Alone!"

"But you will tell me something about wizards later on?"

She wouldn't go until he gave in. He sighed.

"Yes, I will. Later."

"Oh brilliant! And by the way, look if you can find out if wizards are more handsome than other people. I'm pretty sure the wizard we are waiting for must be a cutie."

Still giggling she left. Raistlin thanked Nuitari. Scatterbrained! They were all scatterbrained!

He had just found a halfway comfortable sitting position on the kender's bed and was about to open the book, when the door opened another time. The newcomer was a man of human size, and he was strongly built. But something about the way he moved was alien. As soon as the mage looked in the stranger's face he knew why. His facial features where not entirely human. His mouth and chin were too large, his teeth too long and his brown hair stood from his big head in unruly spikes. A half-orc. An uncommon view. He wore plain clothing and no obvious weapons. A necklace made of feathers, wooden pearls, and leather hung around his neck. He carried a bowl.

"I know you want to be alone, but-" the half-orc began to speak with an unexpected soothing voice. However, he was interrupted by a definitely annoyed "kender" who didn't give him the chance to finish his sentence.

"If everybody in here knows that I want to be alone then why in the abyss doesn't anybody respect my order?" Raistlin hissed, his voice cold as ice.

The half-orc said nothing but stared at him. Raistlin stared back. They fought this battle of wills for several seconds until the halfbreed finally lowered his gaze.

"Because you are kender." he said slowly using an awkward grammar. "And your mother wants you to have dinner. They have griddle cakes. At first she wanted to bring you some herself but then she forgot. Here they are. Eat before they get cold."

The half-orc put the bowl down on a table in the middle of the tiny room.

"I go now."

Raistlin didn't answer. He just waited for the half-orc to be gone. He wasn't interested in conversation or in cakes. His sole aim was reading the book. Soon, he was alone again. Finally! The Book!

He opened it. Big ornamented letters on the front page formed the title.

Oh no! This couldn't be true! Not this one! Of all possible choices in the world, why had it to be the Grimoire of Charlatanry?!!!

This lousy excuse for a real grimoire was known as the worst spellbook that had ever been written. Most wizards forbade their students to use that book because it included too many mistakes and inconsistencies. Wizards whose students had learned spells from this book needed half of the education time to correct their apprentices' mistakes. If there was one thing all wizards of the conclave agreed on, than that this book had not been written by a wizard but by a gully dwarf who had got lost in some old library. Why of all possibilities in the world had it to be that ridiculous thing? The only one who had ever liked this grimoire had been Fizban because both were equally confused. Raistlin rolled his eyes to the ceiling.

"I bet you laugh about me, Paladine, don't you? I bet you find this all very amusing!"

Sighing, Raistlin turned the pages. Maybe he could at least find some low level spells he could use...


	14. Its My Party and I Cry If I Want To

everybody: Thank you so much for your appreciation. I would have never expected so many kind reactions.

kinryuu: ggg Sorry dude, but... that's a secret. ;) (Which will be revealed of course...)

Dally: She has her good sides. Really! I'm working on it, I'm working on it...

**Part 14 - Its My Party and I Cry if I Want To (WARNING! Chapter includes Raistlin-torture of the worst kind!)**

Somehow Raistlin had survived the night and the following day. The kender had come back to the wagon later in the evening. He had pretended to be asleep. Which had not been that difficult because he had truly felt tired. Nevertheless he had not slept very well. In his dreams he had for some strange reason heard a female voice laughing and giggling - joyful and happy. It had disturbed him.

The next morning had been even more tricky. Interaction with the kender had not been easy. Raistlin had decided not to tell anybody of his true identity as long as it was not necessary. Without any allies and without access to his scrolls he would not take any risks. At first he had thought about just teleporting back to the tower. But he couldn't. His spell had been designed to transport a human Raistlin, not a kenderlike Raistlin. Besides, he still missed his spell components. Without the necessary ingredients, even the greatest knowledge was useless.

So he had worked out another plan. He had to analyze the stone and find out what had happened to it in order to contain such power now. He had also to find a way how to use this to his advantage. Right now the crystal part was his only hint. Furthermore, he had to get information about the mysterious Hrongar the gypsy girl had told him about, and he had to occupy himself with the ridiculous grimoire. At least it contained a halfway decent detect magic spell, which could be of some use with the stone and he had found some other spells of lesser power which he would be able to memorize.

However, his plan had developed some difficulties which he hadn't thought of at first. The main problem was this unnerving family he had on his heels. Pretending to be one of them had brought obligations. They hadn't given him a minute of rest or free time. "Nima, bring that to blabla", "Nima help me with the box.", "Nima we have to erect that tent."

Until know he hadn't cared for precautions or a cover-story. The kender and their friends were so gullible, they would be easily deceived. Compared to situations of the past wich had forced him to pretend being somebody else, it was relatively simple to avoid being caught with "missing memories". Just a little bit of eloquence and the jugglers were no match for his restless mind trained in manipulating his environment into following the subtle patterns of his schemes.

Quickly he had found out more about his new acquaintances. He had been right. He was in a gypsy's camp. There were at least 20 persons and 8 wagons. Most of them were artists, artisans and charlatans. Some of them were able to use little illusion tricks. Especially the gnomes. Several people from other races had affiliated to the gypsies, who were all human. There was, for example, a gnome family naming themselves the Snugglepucks. Raistlin had already met their infamous son, Knoblar. They were oddballs among their race. Their sentences actually contained distinguishable words and phrases. The mage suspected this to be the result of living among humans. The kender were four people, father and mother Teketoll, a cub named Runino and... he himself. The only other Non-human left was the Tiomar, the half-orc. He didn't seem to have any relations and most of the time he stayed with the Teketolls who treated him as part of the family.

All together the gypsies had made up a portable fair. When they came to a city or a larger village, they held shows which included "wizardry", meaning some simple illusions spells performed by the gnomes, ropewalking acts, done by the kender, fortunetelling, tricks with animals, dancing, selling sweets and faked protection amulets and so on They called themselves the "Travelling Carnival Show"

At the moment they had just newly arrived in a town and the preparations for the next show event had to be made.

Raistlin had limited himself to keeping out of the way as far as possible and grabbing as much information he could from the conversations in his environment. He hadn't been able to spy on the mysterious Hrongar since the Alchemist had already gone to town to make propaganda for the 'spectacular experiences' one could gain at the Travelling Carnival Show.

In the afternoon everything was ready. Tomorrow the townsfolk would come, they had one evening before the fair began.

Raistlin had made it into the wagon of the Teketolls and was about to cast an analysing spell on the milky stone he had carried around all day hoping to get a chance on it, when somebody knocked at the door. Raistlin cursed mentally. He should have expected this by now. Naranja, the gypsy girl peeked her head around the corner.

"Nima, come out. Your dad is looking for you."

Raistlin snorted. His dad? Surely not! Suddenly it occurred to him that Naranja grinned in a way which could only mean mischief. The kender. Of course. However, he decided he would play their game a little longer. If they tried something stupid he would teach them to do better.

He stepped out of the wagon and stopped. Right in front of him stood the whole Teketoll family with big grinning faces. Behind them were several gypsies. Some had brought instruments. The gnomes were also there with Knoblar standing next to Father Teketoll. Mrs. Teketoll carried a huge pie. Suddenly everybody cried "Surprise!" and the musicians started playing. The kender and Knoblar stepped forward and surrounded Raistlin. He backed away, but behind him stood Naranja. He was apparently trapped. What kind of ritual was that supposed to be?

"We decided to throw you a party, honey!" Mrs. Teketoll handed the pie to her husband and cuddled a dumbfounded Raistlin. He tried to push her away but they were equal in strength and he could not prevent getting a hearty hug and a loud motherly kiss on the cheek.

"We thought this would make you cheer up, you have been so moody all day."

He had just one conscious thought left. Getting out of here! Eventually the kender let him go. Disgusting, that was it.

In the meantime the musicians played another tune.

"Oh, they play El Pato" said the kenderchild happily. He started to sing a stupid nursery rhyme and began with an equally stupid, corresponding dance.

"El pato, el pato con una pata..." he began and stepped on he ground with his right foot. "El pato con las dos patas..." Now he stepped with both feet. "El pato con un alita..." He had drawn his right arm to himself and teeted his elbow as if to imitate a bird. "El pato con las dos alas..." Now both elbows had come into action. Raistlin could only watch in silent horror. In the end the kid turned around his own center once. "Y ahora te toca a ti..."

He pointed at the others. They laughed and the verse started a new. By now, everybody was singing. The gnomes, the kenders, even Naranja. They danced around Raistlin who still stood in their middle. Motionless.

Everybody giggled and grinned at him. They started it over again obviously expecting him to fall in.

"EL pato, el pato con una pata..."

While they were having fun stomping around and looking like brainwashed goblins trying to imitate a chicken, he stood there, his mind trying to deal with a shocked sudden numbness.

'I thought I had faced pure evil before. But this is much, much worse...'

At the end of the verse, everybody turned to him.

"Dance, Nima." said the red haired gnome. "It's your party!"

They saw their beloved daughter and friend growing pale, her face hardening. She didn't respond. She just turned around and went back into the wagon slamming the door behind her. Without uttering a single word.

Everybody stared dumbfounded at the closed door. Until Mrs. Teketoll turned to the rest of them with a beaming face.

"This reaction can only mean... SHE LIKED IT! I'm sure she liked it!"

The kender-mom exclaimed excitedly. The rest of the Teketoll family fell in with her laughter.

"She is just a little weird because of the end of puberty and gaining adulthood and so. Now, lets party!"

Narajna looked a little sceptical at the kender and the gnome, who by now had begun to eat the pie and throw themselves into the party. Nima hadn't looked very happy. She had rather looked as if they had nailed her feet to the ground. Since when had Nima lost interest in parties? Something had happened with her friend. Something very weird. For a second, Naranja contemplated following Nima into the caravan. But then they started to play her favourite song. Well, Nima would surely tell her if something serious had happened.

Naranja went dancing while Raistlin sat in the wagon with Orsany's wish in his hands, trying to concentrate on making magical structures visible. But for once, it was not easy to block the surrounding sounds of joy and happiness from his mind. He missed the quietness of his tower and even Dalamar's unobtrusive presence. Adding to Raistlin's irritation, he had heard Momma Teketoll's exclamation about him _liking_ it. For a second, the mage had to suppress the spontaneous urge of hitting his head against the kitchen table. Hopefully the overall insanity was not contagious. He had to get out of here soon or he would go mad.

tbc

(Tiny translation for those who really want to know what the song says: As far as I know, it is a Spanish nursery rhyme and it goes: "The duck, the duck with one leg, the duck with two legs, the duck with one wing, the duck with two wings and now I pass on to you." The dance was not invented by me but goes along with the song.)


	15. In the Land of Dreams

A/N: Thanks to everybody who reads this and especially to all who take the time to write a review. ;) You are great.

Blackjack: Cthulhu ftagn! (And greetings to everybody who understands what that means.) And regarding your request (You know the drill, don't you?): „NO!"

**Part 15 - In the Land of Dreams**

About an hour later, Raistlin put the stone away. His spell had verified what he already had suspected. The power of the stone was nearly doubled in comparison to his own crystal a day and a half ago. By now he was sure that the stone he had was the kender's half. Though both halves looked just he same for normal eyes, their magical structure was slightly different. But that could only mean that the wish hadn't worked at all. It had transported him to the other half, not the other half into his laboratory as he had commanded. That was not even a "weird but literal" fulfillment of his demand. Nevertheless there had been the energy of a wish in his crystal. He had ensured this. And he was also sure that he had made no mistake as he had invoked he wish. A wish had been set in motion. Then why, in the name of Nuitari's eternal darkness had it not worked? It was an enigma.

Could the kender have something to do with it? Raistlin knew from his shared journeys with Tasselhoff Burrfoot that kender had an instinct for triggering devices of all kinds. Especially when they contained magic. What if the kender, Nima was her name, had found a way to negate his spell and utter a wish of her own? He swore. Why had the other half had to be in the hands of this cursed family? Why couldn't it have been guarded by a black dragon or draconians or a lich? He would have dealt with those things easily.

However, what was done was done. And it had to be reversed soon. But without the kender being here, he would have no opportunity to question her what she had done with the stone. Another thought entered his contemplations. When he was here, then the kender was probably in the Tower of Palanthas! In his body! He imagined what the kender could do. With access to the artifacts in his tower this wretched creature could blow up half of Krynn! If she was only half the meddler Tasselhoff was, he didn't want to know what she would do. On the other hand there was Dalamar. Dalamar would surely see through her and keep her in check. Surely she would not be able to fool the elf. After all his apprentice belonged to the intelligent sort. Raistlin snorted. And he had a talent in spying. The mages' lips formed a sarcastic smile. Yes, the kender would not have the best time of her life with Dalamar around. He could only hope, the girl was occupying Dalamar's attention long enough to keep his apprentice from informing Par Salian about what had happened. If they found him here without his components and scrolls... The old wizard and his enemies at the conclave had waited for a chance like this for years.

Nevertheless the situation had some advantages. The magical power of Orsany's Crystal was immense. Maybe it was not necessary to reunite both halves when he had their combined power concentrated in one crystal. If he could tap the wish as a source he could take down half the mages in the conclave plus Par Salian without even starting to sweat. His powers would be nearly godlike. Raistlin smiled again. That didn't sound so bad. Once he had gotten his old life back the gods better had prepare themselves for Raistlin Majere.

Still pondering the advantages and disadvantages of the current situation, Raistlin laid down on the bed and crossed his arms behind his head. From the outside he could still hear the sounds of music and singing. Did these people think of anything else than having fun? For the gypsies life seemed to be one big feast. They reminded him to some of his brother's friends he had met during their adolescent years. In the past he had never been able to understand these people and he still knew he couldn't. Very likely he never would. And with that he was perfectly fine. He had never needed the common people and their primitive delights. Though in his youth, they and their endless feasting had sometimes made him feel lonely. In the weary years of his childhood it had hurt seeing their joy and knowing he would never be part of their community. Sometimes he had been jealous. With the flow of years such relations, or more specifically the lack of these, had mattered less and less. Irony of ironies, Par Salian's "precious" gift had helped him in this. He had seldom admitted it to himself but seeing each creature wither, regardless of standing and abilities, had always given him a slight feeling of supremacy. Every worldly value, every beauty, joy and dreams others had, had faded into the same old nothingness under his look. And this was what they were to him. Nothing. Once he had realized the absolute insignificance of a single life, even jealousy had lost its point. Just a flicker of an eyelid and they all were gone, and the only thing left that was eternal, was worth craving for, was power. Power and control.

It was the same with these people here. But still... without seeing everything falling apart, it was suddenly not so easy anymore to separate... All of a sudden, an emotion from the past haunted him, something he had believed to have overcome years ago. Outside in the camp a violin sung a bitter-sweet melody that filled even the solitude of the old caravan. Raistlin recognized an old love song and finally, he felt lonely.

His lids sunk down as he gave his mind a rest. Why did he feel tired all the time? Maybe because this body was not trained to bearing so strong magical powers such as he possessed. When others snickered about his frailness and sickness, nobody ever thought of the drain caused by constant use of mental energies. In certain respects he was stronger than they thought...

_He was surrounded by a floating darkness. There was movement all around him. Dark colors whirled up and down. Where was he, he couldn't see further then arm length. He made a step forward. While moving he felt the soft familiar velvet of his robes on his skin and his hand encircled the Staff of Magius. He felt it, he was back in his body again. Suddenly he sensed a presence behind him. Somebody approached him. As thousand times before Raistlin commanded the Staff to spread light. It obeyed in an instance. The darkness around him was lifted away. It stayed at the edge of his vision though. At least the light was enough to recognize the other being. Though he had not seen the person before, he knew who she was. She looked at him with awe. Big blue eyes looked at him curiously. Pure, innocent Kender-eyes. Something in her glance touched him, much more that it should. It made him furious. Raistlin felt his anger rise. That girl! How did she dare to stare at him like that - so knowing, so questioning, after all the trouble she had caused. _

_"Kender! You have something that belongs to me! Give me my body back!"_

_He could see this introduction had frightened her. So kender could be frightened after all. This brought at least a little bit of satisfaction. She jumped backwards in a somewhat acrobatic manner and cried "I didn't do it!"_

_Of course! Kender never did anything according to their own opinion. They could start wars without 'doing' anything. In an instant he was next to her grabbing her sleeves._

_"That was not supposed to happen!"_

_Her panicked face was like a confession of her guilt. He had to find out what she had been up to._

_"What did you do stupid kender?" he questioned her. Quite civilized, he thought, since he didn't use any spell forcing her to reveal everything. But instead of answering the kender cried denial and wriggled in his grip struggling for release. Suddenly her shoe met his shinbone. For a second he was distracted and lessened his hold on her. At that moment she shrieked and disappeared as if the surrounding darkness had devoured her._

He awoke in the dusty light of the evening sun that shone through the open window of the juggler's wagon. From the outside he could still hear music and chatter. He couldn't have slept long. Maybe an hour, not more. Raistlin shook his head to get the strange dream out of his mind. By the three gods of magic! These kender haunted him even in his dreams. Though, regarding the present situation this was no wonder.

Following a sudden intuition he searched for the crystal. It lay next to him on the pillow. He berated himself. How could he act so foolishly leaving his only way out unguarded? Everybody could have taken it during his sleep. Most strangely, he had been sure he had put it safely away before he had let himselfsuccumb to slumber.

'I start to act as erratic as they.'

Fortunately nobody here seemed to have the slightest idea that they had an artifact half the wizards of Krynn would kill for in order to get it. Speaking of wizards, he would pay the show's alchemist a little visit tonight. If the man had something to do with the events around Orsany's Crystal the gypsies would need a new alchemist very soon.

However, this night he didn't find out anything though he had silently sneaked out of the window when everybody was sleeping profoundly. He had just made it towards the alchemist's wagon unobserved when Tiomar, the half-orc had stepped out of the shadows. He had practically stumbled over Raistlin on his way back from a walk through the woods. Inwardly Raistlin groaned. Why had this idiotic halfbreed ranger always to appear in the worst possible moment? Apparently the gods of fate wanted to prevent him from spying on this strange alchemist. But he would get his chance, Raistlin promised silently to himself. Tiomar escorted Raistlin back to the Teketoll's wagon, grinning. His large canine teeth glittered white in the moonlight.

"Kender never learn, eh?"

tbc

**A/N**: I'm sorry folks, but the next update will take longer time than usual. Petalwing hates it but Petalwing has to go to hospital and this interrupts all internet activities. ;( Well, at least this grants me some time to write more chapters. See you soon.


	16. First Day on the Road

A/N: I'm back again and recovering. Ha, I got some more chapters written. Enjoy..

chickens: It was a surgery. Not very nice.

Dally: The dance works great if you do this with your friend while walking through the shopping mile in a big German city. You get a lot of odd looks... but its fun anyway.

Guan: Thank you. It all went well.

Anastasya: :)

Kinryuu: You are right about the rushed ending. I try to keep that in mind.

So now the focus switches again on Nima and Dalamar... Trouble everywhere...

**Part 16 - First day on the road**

Dalamar and his Shalafi had just passed a market place in the city of Palanthas when the dark elf felt Raistlin's hand clutching his arm. He turned and faced a very frightened looking Raistlin.

"Dalamar," his Shalafi whispered in a conspirative tone, "Do you see that too?"

The elf tensed.

"Are we watched again, master?"

"These people, something is just wrong about them." Raistlin gestured vaguely into the crowded market. "Really wrong!" he added after staring intently at a shopkeeper selling herbs.

Dalamar studied the shopkeeper closely. He was plain and stout. A commoner.

"I fear I don't get your point, Shalafi."

His Shalafi's whisper grew more urgent and louder with each sentence.

"Look at HIM! Don't you see it?"

The grip around Dalamars wrist tightened. They were halting in the middle of the marketplace and people began to stare at them.

"And that woman, too!" Raistlin nodded towards a young female who was buying vegetables. "And even the children!!!"

Nearly hysterical, Raistlin pointed to a passing woman who carried a baby in her arms.

"Master, I don't understand-"

At this point, his Shalafi lost what was left of his self-control.

"DON'T GET IT?!! THEY'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!!!" he shouted at Dalamar at the top of his lungs. People backed away from them. Dalamar was sure by now somebody would call the guards. Two blackrobes in the city, one of them announcing death to the citizens was like an invitation for the guardsmen to show up. They had to get away from here, or they were in trouble.

"They are not going to die soon, Shalafi." Dalamar tried to walk on, pulling his master behind. Finally he had noticed what his master's problem was. "Its you."

"WHAT??!!! I AM GOING TO DIE???!"

By now they had the attention of the whole market place. And Dalamar was sure even the doves on the roofs had heard his Shalafi's cry. He winced slightly.

"No, you won't, its only your eyes. They are different."

"DIFFERENT??? I KNOW THEY ARE DIFFERENT, I HAVE A MIRROR!!!"

"Master, it is not necessary to become hysterical-"

"I AM NOT HYSTERICAL!! I PANICKED!!!" his master shouted in response. "I JUST SEE MYSELF SURROUNDED BY DEATH!!!"

"Please calm down!" Dalamar commanded as politely as he could. The people had formed a circle surrounding them, obviously torn between fear and curiosity as if the two mages were some kind of wild animals.

"NO, I WON'T!" Raistlin insisted stubbornly while Dalamar noticed some guards working their way through the crowd towards them. That was exactly what he had tried to avoid. In that moment a sparrow landed next to them, picking up some pieces of food from a baker's stall that had fallen to the ground. Raistlin stared at the bird for a second. He grew white.

"Even the animals." he had returned to whispering once again. "That's so horrible! I can't bear it. I'm going to get sick!"

Faster than Dalamar or anybody else had expected, his Shalafi whirled around and fled. He dodged people with a trained swiftness Dalamar hadn't expected from the frail man. Besides, he was assisted by the people in the crowd because they all backed away when he passed. Dalamar was about to follow his master, when he suddenly felt a strong grip around is shoulders. He was held by two city guards.

"What has happened here, Sir? Explain yourself."

Dalamar saw other guards trying to follow Raistlin but they were not as quick as him and they were hindered by people who kept standing and staring after the fleeing wizard. At that moment, Dalamar had two choices. Either, following his Shalafi by using magic and risking not only to have all the guards of Palanthas on his heels but also to attract any kind of unwanted attention by making Raistlin's dilemma even more public than it already was by now. Or he could try to talk himself out of it and likewise risk loosing track of his horror-struck Shalafi. However, the guards waited for a response and he noticed their hands reaching for their swords nervously. He couldn't risk a fight at the moment.

Dalamar made a decision. He turned to the questioning guard smiling.

"Oh, Sir this is very easily explained..."

Ten minutes and some cajoling later, after some metal having changed the owner, the guards left. The crowd also departed since no fight had broke, no spell had been cast and nobody had been taken prisoner. Unfortunately there was no trace of his Shalafi anymore. Thank Nuitari, he had memorized a tracking spell. He could only hope his Shalafi had found a secure place and had held himself out of trouble. After taking one deep breath for the sake of calmness, Dalamar concentrated on the magic and began to weave a spell.

At the same time in a local tavern...

The barkeeper regarded his new customer with suspicious looks. Some minutes ago, the black mage with the alien golden skin and the eerie eyes had stumbled into his inn, had sat down on the bar and ordered a drink.

"A beer." he had croaked. "A beer or something else, as long as it has alcohol in it."

He had obviously come here inclined to get drunk.

The bartender wasn't used to his customers getting themselves plastered already in the afternoon, even less he was used to wizards asking for that service. But how was he to refuse the order of a wizard? Especially if the wizard wore a black robe.

So the bartender had shrugged and served the wizard an ale. The stranger had gulped it down in seconds and than suffered from a severe coughing fit. He looked like he wasn't used to drinking in the least. Nevertheless he had commanded another beer and drunk it in the same manner soon after. After having consumed a third, the effect of the strong drink set in and the mage calmed down visibly. He began to stare at the innkeeper, eyes somewhat unfocused, and leaned forward as if to make conversation. He looked as if he couldn't see quite clearly anymore. The innkeeper stepped to the wizard and served his customer another ale. His guest looked really drunk by now. He had seldom seen a young man getting this drunk so quickly. Relaxed by the ale, the strange wizard began to verbalize his depression. The bartender had seen this happen innumerable times. People drank to forget their problems, but the alcohol made their misery even worse.

"There musht be something 'bout me." the wizard lamented, swaying back and forth slightly. "I don' know what it ish. I see deapeople, that is depresshing enough. And worshe, nobody likesh me. An' even you! You lookedat me like I wash a monshter. Is it 'cause I'm ugly? Man, do you think I'm ugly? Tell me, ish there shomething about me? I dont know, I don't think I shmell- where was I? Ah yes... and that tower... 's so lonely... so boring. And just because I wear black doeshn't mean I'm bad, you know there's lotsh of people who wear black- where is tha' other guy w' was wearing black? I know I saw him shomewhere..."

"That's probably your servant, sir."

"Boy, I have a shervant? Oh wow! Just becaushe... I think I told you this before?... but jus' becaushe I'm wearing black... I'm not bad, man. 's jus' a fashionable color this sheason. I think it bringsh out da' besht in me. Whish d'you think 's ma best shide? The right un' or the left un'? I think I need to work on my shouldersh. I dun' know... maybe I'm not sho good looking. D'you think I'm ugly? Or d'you think its just a matter of changing my shtyle?"

In beer induced desperation Nima grabbed the Staff of Magius without even knowing it and knocked it on the table rhythmically while speaking. The bartender grew white as the walls of his inn when the orb on its top begann to glow angry in a dark violet tone.

"I mean... honestly... I'm na' gonna do anything at you. Jus' tell me if I'm ugly. Look at me... LOOK AT ME!"

Nima grabbed the bartender's wrist. Frightened to death, he didn't move.

"Do you have shilren? Because I don't have shil'ren. And itso lonely. Yeah, I donknow why. Could you tell me- where wash I?- Oh yeah, its sho lonely. You know you could vishit me with your shil'ren. I love shil'ren. I got lots of shpace and we could do shomething and we could have cake, wonderful shweet cake, and fireworksh, an' lovely an; yuuu... D'you know where I live? C'mon, I'll show you where I live. Over there! Look."

She gestured widely and nearly fell from the chair.

"That's a lantern, sir." The barkeeper answered conspicuously trying to keep his extraordinary customer calm.

"Oh, shorry, I jus'- I jus' mishtook it. They just look the shame with the shize and ever'thing. Do you shee the black tower with the dark woodsh and the big bad nasty bugsiesh floating 'round an' 'round?"

"That terrible tower of doom and despair?"

"Yeah, yeah. Thatsh da' one. Tha's my home. You cou' pay me a visit. And we would have cake and we would party... and I wouldn't be sho lonely. D'ya know, thish's great. Where ish- How's he called?"

The bartender had by now realized that the black mage was completely wasted, he had no control of himself anymore. He wouldn't even realize what was said.

"Your-" the bartender started but hesitated. He knew more about drunkenness then most people. It was not unlikely that the black mage would remember at least some bits of their conversation the next morning.

"Your... your... loyal subject, sir?"

"I don' know. That guy that wore the same clothesh like I did. You shee there're more people wearin' black clothesh. I'sa trend! I could open a shtore at home and we could shell black robes. It helpsh to keep you warm in the winter. You won't loose so much hat... hate? health? heat! Thatsh right! No heat. And look how elegantly they look. LOOK EVERYBODY!"

The black robe spread out his arms enthusiastically several times. It was impossible to say how he managed to keep himself in a sitting position. At the third time, he hit someone standing behind him.

Dalamar had finally found his master. And in what state! Totally drunk, Raistlin had hit him against the chest.

"Shalafi, we have to go."

"Oh, bu' why d'you wanna get me outa here? I'm just shtarting to have thish dishcussion with my friend."

Nima banged her fist on the table looking at Dalamar with a drunk expression. She didn't realize that the violence of her movement gave a loud knock which made the bartender shrink even more into himself. What was left of the other customers sat there in terrified silence. Nobody dared to speak or to laugh at that loss of control since nobody wanted the attention of the black robed owner of the cursed Tower of High Sorcery.

Dalamar's calm expression betrayed his inner feelings. Oh Nuitari. This was serious. His master was making friends. That was worse than him becoming a Knight of Solamnia. The friends were not even dismembered or undead or part of any squad of evil minions.


	17. That's What Friends Are For

**A/N:**

Ahn-Li: Thanks. ;) Yesterday I got rid of the threads and up it goes... By the way, in this story everybody unwittingly gives his best to make the life of the others as hard as can be...

Anastasya: I try to add more serious character development to this, but everything I write turns out to have slap-stick tendencies. I really fear the romance part...

Valura: glad to be of service. Oh, and I can see the sweatdrop, too. Raistlin and Dalamar run through the plot with a permanent sweatdrop. LOL

Kinyruu: Ah, nice speculation. You are thinking along the same lines as Raistlin does. BTW: I swear, Nima will have more to "clean" up, if she ever gets back...

Guan: Don't worry, Nima is a tough girl. Nothing can really get into the way of a kender's cheerful mood for long.

Dally: You'll be relatively safe from more chapters this week.I don't think I'll get around to writing. Thanks again.

Now, onward...

**17 - That's What Friends Are For**

"I recommend that you continue another time."

Nima looked first at Dalamar and then at the innkeeper.

"Really, can I?"

Dalamar nodded once in stern affirmation, the innkeeper repeated the same movement frantically several times, desperately trying to make his creepy customer leave. Their combined efforts succeeded in convincing Nima.

"Fine, if you say so."

Nima tried to glide of the barstool as swiftly as she was used to only to realize that her legs gave way under her. As usual Dalamar caught her. One hand around her waist, the other hand fixing her arm around his shoulder, he held her fixed to his side. She stared fascinated at his dark hair and pointed ears.

"I know you." She stated in awe as if a long kept secret had been revealed. "I remember your name."

"I'm glad you do." Nima didn't hear the taunt in his voice. She also missed the conversation Dalamar had with the innkeeper, negotiating about a room for the night. She was still fascinated by Dalamar's elegant facial features. With his face only centimeters apart from hers and nothing else to do, she pondered how graceful the elf held his head. Did he know how good looking he was? He surely did know.

Dalamar had just paid for the room and turned to the man leaning on him. His Shalafi glanced at him open mouthed with a scrutinizing awe, an expression he would have rather expected in the eyes of a young, naive woman.

Hastily the elf looked away, in turn giving the innkeeper, who had begun to stare at them a menacing glare. The silent communication worked well. The innkeeper bowed submissive.

"I'll show you your rooms, venerable Magi."

He lead them upstairs.

Together they left the tavern room and the few customers who frequented the Inn in the afternoon relaxed. This night they would have something to talk about.

Half carrying half shoving his Shalafi into the small room which only contained a bed, a nightstand and a wardrobe, he realized he had another problem. His Shalafi didn't let him go. He still clung to Dalamar and looked as if about to cry.  
"I'm so lonely." his master complained. "An' I miss my home. I miss them all very much. This is harder than I- I- I thought."

His master spoke more slowly and more clearly now. The hourglass eyes began to glitter suspiciously. Dalamar choked hard. He had never seen is Shalafi in such a miserable state. By the gods, he had never seen him cry. And he didn't want to. He wasn't sure if he could cope with tears from Raistlin. Instead of responding, the elf tried to push the drunken mage softly towards the bed.

"You will feel better if you have slept a little." he said and seated his master down on the bed trying to pull Raistlin's hand from his shoulder. All of a sudden he felt his hands being grabbed by golden ones. With the strength of drunkenness he was instantly pulled in a tight embrace.

"If it wasn't for you, I would be truly desperate. But you- you were always so nice to me. I don't know what I would do without you."

His Shalafi's warm breath brushed along the elf's cheek.

"Dally, you're my only friend."

This was so wrong. So terribly wrong. It was like being transported into a bizarre parallel dimension were the most unlikely things happened and Raistlin suddenly became mushy.

Resolute, Dalamar untangled himself from the embrace and pushed the other man on the bed. To his great relief, Raistlin kept laying there, staring at the ceiling. Feeling uneasy, the elf stepped towards the tiny window in the room and opened it. Maybe fresh air could bring his Shalafi back to his senses. But then, he stayed there, quietly staring into the bright afternoon sky. Even if his master didn't know what he was talking anymore, the simple sentence claiming friendship moved Dalamar inwardly. It confused him. He cast a glance backwards to the man on the bed. Raistlin had his eyes closed now, laying still. Did they have a friendship in the end? Twisted, tainted, since they both were unable to keep normal relationships, but still some kind of personal relation? He had never been able too look into Raistlin's heart or mind but he certainly knew he felt a deep loyalty for the archmage. He had made himself believe it had been only respect and admiration for Raistlin's skills, but somehow he knew, Raistlin had bound him in a way that went further as that. What else then friendship for the golden mage could make him go on that crazed trip to Solace? Not that they had gotten very far up to now. Suddenly Raistlin spoke.

"My head spins."

"Put one leg on the ground." the elf commanded automatically. He heard a soft thud.

"Does it help?"

"Not really."

"You will have a major headache in the morning, Shalafi."

"I had to much, didn't I?"

"Yes."

The other man's voice became a whisper.

"It was just, just- too horrible. Why do I have to see that?"

It was not easy to answer that question honestly.

"Nobody knows." Dalamar answered after a while. "It's one of the mysteries that surround you and draws other people towards you. Maybe the gods want to test you."

"The gods? The gods suck!"

They were silent for some more minutes, each of them diving into their own mental depths. Then the elf heard his name being whispered.

"Dalamar..."

"Yes?"

"Please stay while I sleep, yes? I feel so apart from anybody else, having seen them with these eyes. The loneliness frightens me."

Was that why Raistlin avoided other humans as much as he could? Because it hurt? Dalamar sighed softly.

"I'll stay with you, Shalafi. I'll stay."

He kept his word. And he kept standing at the window for hours, while his master fell into an uneasy sleep. Dalamar finally watched the sun go down setting the sky in flames in the course of her downfall. When it became dark, he sat down on the edge of the bed, watching the his master's sleeping form. In this moment Raistlin looked very young and innocent. He reminded Dalamar of a lost child. The young elf leaned against the bed post, closing his eyes and giving himself a little rest. These had been some strange days.

Having left his place at the window, Dalamar didn't spot the black raven that landed silently on the window frame, and he didn't notice the animal's eyes glowing like red embers for a second, before the bird went on in his journey through the night.

_tbc_


	18. Hit the Road, Jack

**A/N:** Ahn-Li: Wow, you're right. It works exactly like this.

Valura: Oh... When Dally read this she warned me that certain parts could be interpreted as "slashy". I guess she was right. But don't worry. Not every tenderness in this story will automatically lead to the protagonists getting it on. LOL Still it says something about our expectations when reading fanfiction, doesn't it?

Guan: Thanks. I think I can say so much: Thakisis is not the (main) villain. There are so many stories about Thakisis and Raistlin out in the net, I decided I needed another evil party... But whom did you mean with the dwarf? Maybe you mistook something because there is no dwarf in the story so far.

Dally: Look Dally, horses! (I've done it and put the "horse-debate" in the end.)

**18 - Hit the Road, Jack**

Nima opened her eyes slowly. It was a bad idea, since the cursed sunlight had a very agressive quality today. She blinked twice and shook her head to clear her sight. The next bad idea. Her head spun even more now and felt as if a tiny dwarf had moved inside the last night and had begun to excavate her brain for gold with a little persistant hammer. She groaned. That earned her attention from Dalamar who looked up from the scroll he had been reading. He elf sat cross-legged on the lower end of her bed, eating some fruits and studying while he had waited for her to wake up.

"How do you feel, Shalafi?"

"I feel like draconians made a landing spot for black dragons on my stomach."

Was she mistaken or did his eyes sparkle amused for a second at her response? Dalamar took a carafe from the nightstand and poured the content into an earthen mug. He handed the mug over to Nima, who had made it to bring herself into a sitting position in the meantime.

"Water will help you."

Gratefully, she took the cup and swallowed the liquid greedily. Then she fell into a musing silence once more. Dalamar applied himself to his scroll again. Out of the corner of an eye, he saw his Shalafi pulling his left leg close and moving it carefully as if it was hurt. Aching muscles? But Raistlin didn't comment on it and Dalamar wasn't very eager to ask.

"I had a strange dream." Nima pondered after a while. "I met Rai-"

"Whom?"

"Err... Rai... ders. Yes. Raiders, they... err... tried to ambush me and they were... err... strange." she ended lamely. Too bad she couldn't tell him of her dream. She had dreamt of HIM again. And she remembered a fascinating conversation. Actually it had rather been a hot argument most of the time. That was strange, since she couldn't remember the last afternoon clearly, lest the evening. But the dream was present like it had been burned into her mind.

Silence encompassed them and the young kender savoured it for the first time in her life. Sitting here with Dalamar was so peaceful, compared to the last afternoon. She new she had to continue with the journey sooner or later, but how was she to bear the terrible sight? How could Raistlin bear it, anyway? Well, if the grumpy mage had found a possibility to cope with that, there had to be a way for her. Nima clenched her fist refusing to give in to depression again. Still...

"If I leave this room, everything will start anew. Reorx' Beard, even that potted plant over there looks like an undead ghost to me!"

Dalamar raised an eyebrow at his master calling Reorx' name. He had gotten a strange liking for certain deities of Good and Neutrality lately.

"How I am supposed to walk with these eyes from here to my brother's town without becoming a nervous wreck? How did I do that in the past?"

Dalamar shrugged helplessly.

"I guess you were used to it."

"Used to? Oh great... in that case..." Dalamars Shalafi sat up clenching his right fist, eyes turned to the ceiling, "I have to do it again!" Raistlin nodded at himself, confirming his own statement. "But walking all the way to that city- what's it called? Solstice? Solace? Ah, that was it. Walking all the time to Solace will be... tricky."

Dalamar leaned back on the bedpost, not so much as the hint of a smile in the corners of his mouth.

"We don't have to walk the whole way." he said expecting a surprised glance from his Shalafi which promptly followed.

"But you said we couldn't teleport!" Raistlin asked confused. Dalamar nodded affirmatively.

"Yes, Shalafi. I said so. Though I have to admit that we could. I just won't recommend it. Since your memory loss was presumably caused by a magical overload, the worst thing we could do is to put you under another spell. The consequences could be severe. Your mind needs time to heal. I even regret invoking true sight and other investigation-spells on you. I don't think we should take any further risks as long as it is not an emergency. I fear we have to do it the same way as those not gifted with the privileges of spellcasting do it. Still there are faster ways to travel than simple walking. I hope you remember how to ride, Shalafi. While you were sleeping the last evening I summoned horses to this inn. It is still an early morning. If you feel you're in travelling condition we can leave Palanthas before it gets too crowded."

"Weee, you've thought of everything, didn't you?" Soon, Raistlin's expression changed from impressed to contemplating. "Do I remember how to ride? Do I? I DO!"

He cried his last enthusiastic statement so suddenly that the elf winced slightly in irritation. Without any further comment, Dalmar rose.

"I will just inform the innkeeper of our leave, I'm back soon."

He left, the door closed softly behind him.

Nima had never rode much in her life, but they had a pony in the Travelling Carnival Show and her friend, Tiomar the half-orc, had sometimes put her on the pony's back and had given her riding lessons. Tiomar was a good rider himself of course. And he had his own horse. It was very big. And Nima had loved to play with it and feed it from time to time. Timoar's horse was even more interesting than the lovely rabbits in the Snugglepucks' wagon, or the big dogs Knoblar's mama commanded. Ah, her home. How much she missed it. What were they doing now? Where they looking for her? Did they miss her, too? Surely they would travel from one end of the world to the next in search for her. Anyway, when she was back home she would have stories to tell that would even impress the old Hrongar. Doing magic and having a mage's staff and riding horses and making friends with an elf... This was so exciting.

While waiting, Nima decided to get dressed and do some exercise. Both were not the easiest tasks since she now had the major headache Dalamar had prophesied. But she was damned if she would let the stupid dwarf in her head win.

When Dalamar returned she was already prepared to go. Two horses stood in front of the house. Both animals looked noble and very elegant with coats as black as their rider's robes. She liked this about Dalamar. The elf had a liking for the dramatic just like she had.

But something about the horses was different. First of all, they didn't seem to age. As Nima touched her horse in order to caress it, the horse seemed to radiate a certain heat. A heat that sent shivers down her spine. The touch was hot, but in another respect invoked a strange cold inside of her. There was definitely something strange about the horse. When Nima's golden hand stroked softly over the smooth fur, the horse turned its head and stared at her. Nima's mouth dropped open. The animal's eyes were completely dark, as of a black nothingness that somehow reminded her of the dreaded endless void between the stars. After a while the kender realized that with every breath tiny clouds of grey escaped the animal's nostrils. This was not normal either since the day was sunny and warm. Full of curiosity Nima petted the horse's mouth. It winced from the touch, snapping after her hand. Hastily Nima backed away.

"Whoah, easy, buddy!" She addressed the black horse before turning towards her Elven companion.

"Did you put the horses under a spell?" she asked irritated.

He gave a dark and somewhat sinister chuckle.

"In a certain way, Shalafi. Yes."

Slowly it dawned to Nima what was odd about the horses.

"They are not normal horses, are they? I never saw horses with totally black eyes and, and, and they don't seem to age."

"Demons, don't age, Shalafi!"

Nima shook her head.

"No, of course, demons don't age. I'm not speaking about demons but about horses, Dalam- Ahhhh! DEMONS?! They are DEMONS???"  
She nearly could feel the impact of her sudden realization in a physical manner. It was like being hit right between the eyes. The elf regarded her amused, a smug smile on his lips.

"I thought this would be quite appropriate for us. Their speed and physical abilities are much above mortal mares, as is their robustness. Once summoned, they obey your will blindly. Moreover they don't need food or sleep. They never tire."

Nima tried a chuckle. But she couldn't prevent it from sounding abashed.

"Th- Thank you? Do they bite?"

Dalamar's smile became subtly wider.

"Maybe they are slightly more aggressive than average animals."

"How are they called?" Nima eyed her mare suspiciously.

"They are Noxequus, a species of horse-shaped creatures that roams the Ab- well, another plane so to speak, Shalafi."

"Why are their eyes so strange?"

Again Nima tried to stroke the horse's mouth and again the animal bit after her. This time she only narrowly avoided loosing a finger in the process. Dalamar followed his Shalafi's efforts to befriend the demonic creature with a raised eyebrow.

"Where they come from they don't need eyes, because there simply is no light. They are nearly blind, but their other senses are much keener in turn."

"Oh."

His Shalafi didn't look too happy. This time the demon had gotten hold of his sleeve and the material was ripped between sharp teeth that more fit a carnivore that anything else.

"And I guess, there is not much grass, either."

Nima just didn't want to imagine what these things ate, if they ate. The elf saddled his mare and assisted her in doing the same with her own. To her surprise the horse stood still and made no attempt to escape, as long as she didn't try to caress its head. However, she decided, for a demon this thing was... cute. She always had imagined demons to be icky and slimy and have tentacles and horns, but looking like a horse... Finally she felt Dalamar's questioning glance scrutinizing her.

"Shall we?"

The elf helped her into the saddle and Nima adjusted herself on the horse. That felt not bad. And this would add another exciting story to her repertoire. Riding demon horses. Great! Now she felt like a real tough black mage.

The kender cast a last glance to the inn. Behind one window she could see the innkeeper staring at them. Probably he wanted to make sure that they really went away. When his hair developed the first shade of grey and his face gained more lines and wrinkles, she hastily averted her eyes. Just a second later he looked perfectly normal again. That was it! She would just avoid looking at things for to long and everything would be perfectly fine. Nima grinned happily at the newfound solution. Now, nothing could stop her.

"Onward to new adventures!" She grinned at the elf and whirled the staff of Magius around in the air. "Lets go!"

The hardships of the previous day were already forgotten when Nima exuberantly urged her Noxequus to move. Dalamar rolled his eyes in resignation and followed his master who had just disappeared around a corner of the street. No, his Shalafi was absolutely not himself anymore. It was like being confronted with another person that bore solely an outward resemblance to Raistlin. But that couldn't be, could it?

tbc

_**A/N: **(Forgive me, but after turning Raistlin into a women I couldn't resist the old pot plant joke. :D )_

And for Your amusement: I have to admit the special horses were only introduced after Dally pushing me through a hole in my own plot. We were not sure at first how the magical transport should look like and discussed several versions. So if you want to take a look behind the scenes, see: "How to Hook a Mage - The Making Of - Part I

(Sentence in question: "While you were sleeping the last evening I ordered horses to this inn.")

_Dally: "Well, you know I love Dalamar, but this wasn't his best suggestion I think. I mean, riding a skeletal horse? Creepy."_

___Petalwing: "_Hnnnn??? Ummm... the horses were ordered! Not summoned!!!" 

_Dally: "One word: sight-impediment..."_

_Petalwing: (innocent look... blink... blink... blink... ??? ... blink) "Damn!!! You are right!!! Oh my... I need an explanation for that! Um... maybe Dalamar could hope Raistlin gets used to it? No, not too good... Hm thinking about this longer, the horses could be b__red by elves _and therefore have longevity. With a little bit of magical influence from their breeders, over the generations they could have gained longevity... All things that come from elves last longer..."

_Dally: __ "Uhhh, I think that wine is a bit easier to smuggle out of Silvanesti than Elvish Super Horses..."_

___Petalwing. "Dough! ... __Oh wait, what do you think if Dalamar is a really tough guy and he really _DID summon horses? Maybe lovely h_orse-elementals from the 'plane of eternal _riding'?"

_Dally: "Plane of eternal riding? Sure, and bunnies actually come from the plane of infinite fuzziness..."_

_Petalwing: "Well, it was a try... the bunnies made me do it!"_

_(Pause. Silence. Ping-sound can be heard when Petalwing suddenly has an idea...)_

_Petalwing: "Oh wait, what do you think if Dalamar summoned EVIL horses? Not undead horses but horse-shaped demons from another plane. Demons don't age... and they go along fine with evil mages. And they look pretty cool! __Hm... that really could work and at the same time we likewise remember our _readers that our nice, lovable apprentice is a DARK elf for a certain reason... "

_Dally: "S__ometimes we tend to forget our friend Dally is a __Dark_ elf, not just some random mage. This also shortens the time to get to Solace!" 

_Petalwing: "And Dalamar can show off with his skill. And they look REALLY COOL!"_

_Dally: "Yay!"_

_Petalwing: "Yay!"_

_And so it came that the species of Noxequus emerged from the melting pot of unlikely evolution in a fantasy universe..._


	19. These Boots Are Made For Walking

**A/N:** Anastasia: Glad to be of service ... ;)

Valura: LOL I love reviews like that one...

Dally: The bunnies! Beware of the bunnies... We all have to hide, or they will get u-...err... yes...

Ahn-Li: Oops. But Dalamar was also referring to the Paladine-prayer-incident. For somebody who is supposed to follow Nuitari if ever, everything not evil seems to be too good to be worshipped. However, you are right and I'll try to change that part.

Chickens: Thanks.

Guan: Glad you liked it. Maybe Dally and I can manage further "Behind the scenes" parts from time to time, though this one was spontaneous.

I hope you enjoy part 19 - and say bye to Dalamar and Nima, next chapters will give priority to Raistlin again.

Onward...

**Part 19 - These Boots are Made for Walking**

To Dalamar's relief, the next days of travel passed by without his master drinking himself into near-unconsciousness again or getting ripped to pieces by his own mount. The latter had nearly happened once when Raistlin had attempted to feed his Noxequus with a carrot. Even after a week his master stubbornly refused to accept the obvious fact that the abyssal beings were not for petting. The elf just didn't want to know what Raistlin, in his recent condition, would do if they should by chance meet harpies. Somehow Dalamar was sure the phrase "How cute." would have something to do with it. But neither the hypothetical dangers of the journey nor the fact that he occasionally spotted another beholder following them in a distance just out of spell casting range didn't bother him as much as his Shalafi's lunatic state of mind. He had the feeling, the longer they travelled together, the more his Shalafi opened up and the worse things got. In one moment of outspoken emotional leisure, Raistlin had frankly uttered the elusive idea of him and Dalamar getting themselves reputations as local heroes. Moreover, Raistlin had held his apprentice a speech about their obligation of helping the poor, defending the weak, doing good deeds and the greatness of adventuring in general. He had found the dark elf at a loss of words. Adding to the situations absurdness, Raistlin didn't confine himself to verbalizing his urge to go on adventures, he literally jumped to every opportunity to do so. Unfortunately Raistlin's erratic behavior effectively undermined Dalamar's intent on attracting as less attention as possible.

Two nights ago they had spent the night in a village near the main-road. Riding nearer to it they had seen thick smoke ascending from a barn and the smell of burning wood had hung in midair. They had sped up and arrived just in time to face a gathering crowd and the desperate screams of unlucky peasants who had been trapped in the attic while forking the mowed hay. Raistlin had without thinking tried to enter the house in a hopeless attempt to help the encased. This had resulted in a severe coughing fit as soon as smoke had invaded the mage's frail lungs. The only way to prevent Raistlin from risking his life further had been for Dalamar to levitate the peasants out of the attic window. With a second spell invoking rain, the Elven mage had stifled the flames.

Of course afterwards, they had been the heroes of the day and their involvement in the issue had earned them the occupation of the guest-room in the house of the village eldest and the best food the peasants had to offer. The people had stared at their saviors in awe whenever they had encountered both mages afterwards. Most disturbingly, Dalamar had seen the same awe and admiration in his master's golden eyes, too.

"You are ingenious!" Raistlin had stated directly after he had recovered from his cough.

In a certain way, Dalamar deplored that the only full-hearted praise he had ever gotten from his Shalafi had been given in a state of absolute mental disorder.

Though not showing the tiniest hint of his contemplations on the outside Dalamar had since then started to wonder if what he experienced now was the real Raistlin. A person that had been buried under a shell as hard as marble. His master was practically a new man.

Somebody incredibly curious for the wonders of the world that he had seemed to despise to the deepest extent only a week before. Now there was a stranger with an innocence that was unbelievable in someone who had been capable of killing a man without a moment's hesitation. How could a single drain on his Shalafi's memory have caused such a crucial, intrinsic change like this? If these were emotions and longings Raistlin had hidden all the time, then how had he ever been able to choose the black robe?

But, if it hadn't been part of him before, how could he develop a new personality so quickly? Dalamar shuddered in his contemplations. Raistlin would not have been the first wizard who fell prey to madness. Didn't they, who had chosen the dark side of road, all walk the thin line between genius and insanity? Maybe you never realized the alluring trap before you were caught in it. How much pain could a soul bear without breaking? Had it just taken one spell too much to turn the switch? And if it was like this and Raistlin had gone over the edge, how could he, Dalamar, ensure that he didn't share his master's fate? At their level a wizard either sold his soul to magic or he never truly achieved full mastery. Dalamar had always known the risks and he had taken them willingly. As well as Raistlin had. And the dark elf had truly believed that if anybody in the world was to control the forces of magic it had to be Raistlin. If anybody could sacrifice everything for power and still come up on top in the end, it was Raistlin. That was one of the reasons why he adored this callous man whose heart had seemed to be colder than ice. Had Raistlin sacrificed too much now? How high was the price anyway? Had they been arrogant to believe they could meddle with powers that only belonged to the gods? And now the gods punished Raistlin for his arrogance? Had the prince of darkness fallen from his throne?

Still, if it was a punishment from the gods, it didn't look like a punishment at all. Most of the time during their journey, Raistlin had appeared to be cheerful and happy.

If anybody had told Dalamar a week ago that his master was even capable of such simple feelings, he would have laughed right into his face, before smiting him down for the insult on his Shalafi's personality. Now he didn't know what to think anymore.

And if he was truly honest with himself, he had to admit something else. Actually he appreciated the admiration of these simple peasants in a certain respect. Somehow, being not the feared, hated outcast but their hero, gave his lonely soul a kind of satisfaction he could only regard as sentimental. Sentimental or not, it was there, still. Dalamar would rather die before letting anybody know how he felt, but he observed that his Shalafi shared these feelings. Raistlin didn't even bother to hide them. He quite openly relished in the wave of sympathy that carried them.

"Isn't it great to have saved the day?"

Raistlin had asked his apprentice rather exited before going to sleep that night.

Nevertheless, they had travelled on the next day. Much to Raistlin's disappointment.

But still, when they left the village behind, Dalamar knew, his troubling thoughts could not be banished out of his mind as easily as the huts disappeared from his sight The young elf's world had been turned upside down. Disorder had been brought into what had seemed clear and true before. And even two days later, several unanswered questions hung in the air and Dalamar couldn't find a way to put them to rest.


	20. Breakfast, Bunnies and Bruises

**A/N:** Anastasya: Thanks for commenting each chapter. Though, I wouldn't mind criticism either, as long as it is constructive, I am really encouraged by every sign of appreciation I get. ;)

Valura: ROFL! Lestat, well yes... could work. But Ozzy??? That guy is rather the "prince of dorkness" if you ask me. ;D

Guan: Dalamar's problem is that the truth is just so unlikely that everything else seems more logical then that his Shalafi just turned into a copy of Tasselhoff.

Chickens: More introspection will come soon.

Dally: LOL Poor Dalamar, only getting attention from starry-crossed females while his master never even thinks about raising the monthly salary...

Katherat: I'm glad you like this story.

**Part 20 - Breakfast, Bunnies and Bruises**

Several days earlier somewhere on Krynn in a jugglers camp...

The morning was bright and early when Raistlin found himself eye in eye with a huge plate containing several different pancakes and at least three kinds of meat. His "family" was already digging into the breakfast as if they wouldn't be allowed to eat for the next week. He doubted this was the case. While he was still fighting with the first pancake the babykender had already devoured his portion. While the child gulped down milk it stared at Raistlin's food with hungry eyes. At that moment, Mother Teketoll lifted her head, watching the progress of her children in eradicating their pancakes. Her gaze stopped at her eldest daughter, who, according to Mother Teketolls observation, picked at her food, unmotivated. Motherly instinct lead to the dreaded utterance:

"Honey, you have to eat more!"

"No, I'm fine." answered Raistlin politely. It was obvious that the discussion would not end at this point.

"But- But you had only one pancake." Mother Teketoll responded promptly, a hint of worry in her high kender-soprano. "That's not enough, dear."

"I'm fine. Really." tried the mage. His stomach already protested against the sacrilegious idea of consuming large masses of the greasy food at this time of the day. He could tell, his efforts would not lead to success. Now Mr. Teketoll joined the conversation.

"Young Lady, are you on this nonsensical diet trip again? We told you a thousand times, if you get any more slim, we'll have to tie you to the wagon or the next breeze will carry you away. Women and their vanity!" He rolled his eyes.

"Darling" Mrs. Teketoll had taken the lead of the conversation again. Her tone held a touch of scolding. "Don't be so insensitive about your daughter's feelings."

She turned to Raistlin again, even more concerned, now.

"Are you doing a diet darling? Even if your father is sometimes just too blunt-" she granted her husband a short dispraising glance, "he is right about the issue. You really are slim and sweet and you are a nice-looking girl and I swear, every young kender on Krynn would be more than happy to have you as a girlfriend."

"The gods spare me that." Raistlin muttered dryly to himself, silently enough to escape the kender's notice. He had to admit, the situation bore a certain degree of comedy. If only the elderly kenderlady knew whom she was just giving a motivation boost.

"Nima, can I have your food?" blurted the kenderchild eventually. Runino's urgent demand saved Raistlin from having to defend himself further. Mr. Teketoll raised his finger at the kid.

"No no, Son. You already had enough. If you eat more, you will start looking like a balloon and we would have to roll you out of the wagon!"

Runino whined.

"But I am still hungry. And Nima doesn't want anymore. If you are disciplining her, then why do I have to suffer?"

This lead to another discussion which lasted the next half of an hour. And while the Kender parents' attention focused on their son, Raistlin retreated into the quietest corner he could find studying the infamous Grimoire.

Trouble arose when the kender had quit their meal and finished their educational efforts on their youngest son. Mr. Teketoll's attention went back to his elder offspring.

"Nima, we have to practice the stunts for tonight. And I made up a new one and I think it could be a great show if we do the flipflop-trick in combination with the double-jump. You know, I have a bet with Abrakus going on, I said we need less time to do it then him inventing a new spell for changing the color of the bunnies while he draws them out of the hat. I want us to try another rope today..."

Through the incessant chatter Raistlin extracted one important piece information. The kender were rope-walkers and of course he was part of the show, and of course they expected him to prove "his" artistic skills tonight. Why had he not considered this circumstance earlier? It had to be the special conditions of the whole affair. Inwardly the mage groaned. He should be in full control of the game; he had handled harder situations in a more professional manner. Neither his traitorous sister nor any other foe had ever managed to baffle him with complicated schemes and subtle manipulative attempts. But the smiling little nuisance in front of him did it without even planning to. Of course only because Raistlin had allowed the situation to take over once again. No, the archmage was not pleased with himself. Why did he suddenly miss the most basic things? However, Raistlin knew he couldn't allow himself the luxury of wallowing in self-accusation. Instead of fretting he had to come up with a quick solution.

Tonight! Even earlier if the kender insisted on a training-session. He needed a good explanation for not having to participate in any acrobatic acts. Though quick reflexes had occasionally saved his life during his time of adventuring, even in his own body he wouldn't have the sense for balance that was needed. Much less in a body crucially different to his own. Raistlin knew he was in trouble when the kender announced:

"We meet in half an hour at the main-tent."

The kender left the wagon one by one leaving only Raistlin.

Working magic was out of the question at this point. He could manipulate their minds and make them believe that he was the greatest rope-walker on Krynn if necessary, but it would be much harder to keep up the pretense as soon as more people got involved. And tonight half the village would be there awaiting the show.

His first thought had been on creating an illusion of him performing the deed. But this plan had two intrinsic weaknesses. First of all, the show included combined action and team-work. An illusion would not be able to catch a flying Runino. Secondly, even if he put enough effort into the illusion to make it so real it could even be touched and held, he didn't know the exact program of the artistic act which made improvising nearly impossible. And even spells that allowed him to boost his own agility to a point where he would make a squirrel jealous were useless since he had not enough theoretical knowledge. No, it was a useless waste of energy and simply out of question.

It was also out of question for another reason. The same reason that had kept him from inventing an idiotic coverstory like, for instance, a memory loss or something similar. Yes, the kender and their friends would surely believe him, still there was a reason he had not made use of this possibility beforehand.

Some would maybe call it paranoia, but Raistlin had the certain feeling that somebody in this camp played with a folded hand. Maybe the one who had interfered with the wishing spell was still here. Maybe someone was waiting for him to show that something was not as it should be. Someone knowing about the true nature of the milk-white stone would probably not be fooled by such an excuse. Somebody who knew to read the signs would maybe realize what had happened. And probably that person was just waiting for him, Raistlin, to show a weakness. The archmage was not inclined to lay his cards all in the open at this point. And he wouldn't grant any trumps to his hypothetical enemy. No, he needed to be Nima and with no word he would refer to the incident with the crystal in public. Not as long as he hadn't solved the problem already. All he needed was a reason for them not to involve 'their daughter' in their rope-walking acts for certain time. It needed to be something harmless. Something that could happen every day... like... an accident. The mage was sure he could improvise a little incident. Nothing really disturbing, maybe just a hurt ankle that didn't keep Nima from running around but strained 'her' balance enough, so she could not participate in any acrobatic acts. Of course he would mostly pretend the hurt since, apart form certain rumors about the followers of Nuitari, he didn't enjoy masochistic practice. Of course the accident had to happen in public to make it more realistic and less suspicious. And Mr. Teketoll's announced training session would give him the perfect opportunity.

Loosing no more time, Raistlin left the wagon and headed to the big tent in the middle of the camp. He hurried around the backside of the tent, searching for the entrance, when he suddenly spotted something little moving on the ground. Raistlin followed the tiny creature with his eyes and watched a disorientated white bunny lolloping over the meadow. He remembered the kender talking about Abrakus, the gnomish illusionist and his show including bunnies. The furry creature had apparently managed to escape his owner. Now it hopped towards him, not afraid of human beings in the least. Automatically he bent down and reached for it. It sniffed at his left shoe and then at his palms in search for some tasteful vegetables, which it had likely been given in the past by these hands. Carefully, Raistlin grabbed the bunny. He took it in his left arm and fondled it absently. It wrinkled it's tiny nose and ears nearly rhythmically while sniffing on his tunic. While Raistlin allowed himself to halt and stroke the furry being in his arms. A silent observer would have been granted the rare sight of a smile in the corner of Raistlin's mouth. The moment the mage heard the steps of jugglers coming out of the tent, he rose, still carrying the bunny in his arms. He would bring it back to its owner before somebody accidentally stepped on it, even if it meant having to face 'The great Abrakus - the mysterious gnomish sorcerer'.

Approaching the wagon of the gnomes, he was greeted by the sounds of high voices screeching at each other in the strange cadences of the gnomish language. It seemed as if Abrakus and his family had noticed their pet was missing. Raistlin had to climb three wooden stairs until he reached the door of the wagon.

"Don'ttellmemynewlyinventedsafetysecuritylockisbroken! Itsnotbrokenintheleast! ItoldyouyouhadtobemorecarfulbecausethisisthethirdtimethisweekandItoldKnoblartousethespecialsafetysecuritylockintherightway! Iexplaineditthreetimesbecauseifyouuseitrightitcan'tgowrong..." he heard from the inside.

Raistlin was just about to knock when all of a sudden the door flew open, nearly bumping against his head and revealing the view of a dumbfounded Abrakus. Obviously, the gnome hadn't expected somebody right in front of the door. Raistlin stumbled backwards narrowly avoiding the crash. However, his next step was too short to reach the stair. He struggled for balance hopelessly, realizing once more that he was caught in a body too alien to him. Cursing he tumbled backwards. At least he reacted quickly enough, not to let go of the animal in his arms. Shortly before he felt air being pressed out of his lungs he noticed a sharp wave of pain from his left foot. Somehow he had managed to get his foot stuck between the lower steps of the staircase. His back ached and for a second, the sight of the blue morning sky was substituted by darkness. The next things he noticed clearly were the gnomes fussing over him and the bunny rubbing its warm nose against his neck as if nothing had happened.

"OhmyReorxshehashurtherankle!Maybeshehashurtherheadaswell! PoorNimawhataterribleterribleaccident!"

Raistlin was given cold water, hot water, had strangely smelling salty substances rubbed under his nose and got his head and feet wrapped in wet towels all at the same time, while he was desperately trying to sit up. Somehow he had managed to run from the care of kender directly into the care of gnomes. Right from the breeze into the storm. Which damned god had a grudge on him? And why? Actually, he had to admit there were possible reasons, but why... now?

The exited gnomes didn't stay unnoticed. Other people ran towards them and the story of his unlucky accident got around. If it hadn't been for a swollen foot and a hurting spine, he could have congratulated himself to this perfect outcome of his plan. While he was carried into the kender's caravan somebody ran for Hrongar, who apparently was not only the alchemist but also the camp's healer. Highly curious, Raistlin waited for the mage to appear. Maybe he could recognize the face. However, the gods didn't grant him any pleasure today, since the news came that Hrongar had disappeared. None of the jugglers were surprised by that since the old man - at least they called him an old man- from time to time left the camp only to reappear some days later his bag full of herbs and ingredients for his potions. All of them put so much trust in their alchemist that nobody had ever asked if the man pursued some secret activities while he was "collecting ingredients".

Even without the alchemist's help the kender and Tiomar took care of his ankle. His back would only hurt for a few days; he had fallen luckily, not breaking anything. However, his leg was not in the best condition. The ankle was red and swollen, he had to cool it with cold towels and keep it still for the next couple of days. That was probably not the worst thing after all, it spared him to be part of the feast and while the others were busy selling their handicraft and services to gullible villagers, he had time to occupy himself with the crystal. Maybe the day was not that bad after all. While Tiomar took care of his foot, Raistlin noticed the half-orc's practiced movements. He seemed to have some experience with wounds. Very likely that came with the profession of a Ranger. A hunter often had to face accidents and light wounds. Timoar's fingers were quick and skillful and made a strange contrast to his slow, reduced speech.

"You have very strange luck, lately." was all the half-orc said about the issue.


	21. Truths Revealed

**A/N:** Thanks to all people who reviewed. I can't believe you're still with me. Thanks to you. You probably don't believe me, but it actually makes me write faster and encourages me to try to improve my writing skills.

Blackjack: Oh, my darlin'... what do we have here? No, I will not introduce the killer rabbit from the Monty Phyton movie. No. No. NO! And besides, you seem to have a really weird attitude towards matrimony. You should work on that!

lazy.kender: Hey, somebody thought of Naranja. But, I think you question will be answered right now...

**Part 21 - Truths revealed.**

When the villagers came and the fair began, Raistlin was left alone. Finally he could analyze Orsany's Crystal. During the last two days, he had managed to get the most basic components he needed. His possibilities were still limited compared to what he was capable of with his own laboratory at hand but at least it was worth trying. While he concentrated on a spell to make magical structures visible he forgot the throbbing ache in is left foot. His mind focused solely on the artifact. Forgetting the world around him, Raistlin looked into the marvellous realms of magic. At first he was nearly blinded. As he had suspected, the stone pulsated with a bright light, radiating a power even the archmage had rarely seen before. The energy was bound in a complex system of diverse magical strands. They formed a web, holding the energy inside, guiding it. He had seen a similar structure in the other crystal, though now everything pulsated like beating heart. This was highly suspicious; according to every magical theory, a wish shouldn't be 'doing' anything after it had been invoked. Not even when the energy had been bound again instead of evaporating. It was rather likely to stay dormant until activated another time. Nevertheless, the crystal looked as if it was still working. Fascinated he stared at it. It was beautiful. A subtle, complex and highly intricate work.

It had rather taken years, maybe decades and immense power to design a structure like this. Raistlin couldn't help getting exited over this fascinating piece of spellcraft. This was a grandmaster's work. Amazed, he realized that the structure consisted of several different components, which were all connected through the strands, the energy being only a source for the spells to work on a permanent basis.

Now, the spells had been activated. The kender couldn't be blamed for that. It took a mage of cunning skill to bind several active spells into a material source to root in, this surely couldn't happen by accident. No, the kender seemed to be innocent for once. Moreover, Raistlin observed some strands that hadn't been there before on the other artifact. They stuck out of the structure, dangling into nothingness. That seemed odd, since everything else was absolutely perfect, whoever had designed this wouldn't leave wavering strands.

Suddenly it dawned to him. The strands didn't fade into nothingness, as he had assumed at first, they probably just lead into another plane. Raistlin's jaw dropped. Multidimensional magic? Could this artifact really influence different planes? Only a truly legendary mage or a god could create such a device. Who had designed this? And what for? Suddenly the crystal had turned out to be much more then just a wish. Somebody must have had the wish beforehand and added this structure to it. But who? Raistlin went through all the wizards he knew who were capable of such high-level spellcraft. He didn't find much. Par Salian could maybe have done it, and of course Fistandantilus. But Raistlin knew both mages very well, none of them had taken the necessary time to create this structure. Par Salian had a conclave to lead and Fistandantilus book's had never mentioned anything like this. And Orsany himself? According to his research on Orsany, the red robed wizard had lived some centuries ago, he had been a specialist on transformations, "Master of Chimeras", they had called him. Somewhere Raistlin had read the mage had also had a hand in artifact creation, but still... how could somebody have been capable of acquiring the necessary knowledge to create this masterpiece in a single life-time? Rumor had it that Orsany had died around the age of forty during an accident in his study-room. No matter how ingenious the man was, he couldn't have achieved this in so short a time. But if it was someone else... Raistlin felt a sharp sting of jealousy at the idea that someone probably walked the face of Krynn who was even more skilled than him. Impossible. That couldn't be.

Raistlin cast another spell, focusing more closely on the spells and the mysterious strands. He could barely sense the nature of the spells, they seemed to be mostly of the transformational type. But there was at least one with the aura of domination. He couldn't find out more details with his simple, improvised spells. The transformation-magic hinted into the direction of Orsany again, still it seemed unbelievable regarding the man's official biography.

The strands passed for an even greater enigma. They might lead into another dimension, but where were they headed to? Another piece of the puzzle moved into place. What if these strands formed a link to the other half of the crystal? Raistlin remembered his analysis of the counterpart. He had noticed some blank spots in the structure holding the wish. At that time, he had suspected them to result from the parting of both halves. With his recently gained knowledge in mind the situation looked different. It was likely that these spots were active now, maybe they had also developed the same kind of strands and linked to this part.

If this was true it could only mean that the halves had never been together! There had always been two parts, they had been created to work together exactly like this after one part had been set in motion. He had probably started the process while unleashing the wishing-energy. However, all this lead to only one possible conclusion. He, Archmage Majere, had been misled by an old legend and had walked right into a trap. A highly subtle trap, but nevertheless, a trap. He cursed.

At this moment a tentative knock came from the door.

"Nima, are you in there?" asked a female voice. The gypsy girl. Of course this had to happen now. He let is spells fall and hid the crystal one of his pockets while telling the girl to come in. As soon as his senses focused on the here and now again, the pain in his foot was back. He winced. Suddenly Raistlin felt exhausted from spellcasting. Whatever the girl wanted, she had better get over with it soon. Naranja climbed into the wagon and sat down with him. She had brought a lute.

"I wanted to keep you some company, I know how much you hate loneliness, Nima."

The gypsy began telling him what had happened in the last hours. -Had he really passed hours in his trance-like state?- She chattered about some adolescent peasant boys who had got drunk and made fools of themselves, and told him how many times she and her mother had laid the cards today. She explained how she had danced with one of the village boys and how nice and how charming he had been. From what she told, he was probably the same type as his simple, good-looking brother. To his surprise she insisted that she hadn't flirted too much with the guy. She wanted to wait for her true love who had to be a mage of course. Were had she got that idea from? Ah yes, the card-laying issue. Superstition and a romantic attitude. A dangerous mixture. He could only be happy she didn't know who he really was or he would probably be subject of her infatuation. Raistlin's mood got worse with each passing minute. The pain in his ankle wouldn't lessen, this little body suffered from the after-effects of spellcasting and Naranja went on and on with her nonsensical chatter until Raistlin couldn't bear it anymore.

"He will come." Naranja stated all starry-eyed, still rambling about her future wizard-love. "The cards foretold him and I know we are destined for each other. He will probably be evil at first, but I know I can turn his heart if try. Love can make everything right."

At this point Raistlin lost his temper.

"Love?" he snickered. "What do you know about real love? I doubt you can think of anything else then your fun?" he finally spat at the surprised girl. "All I hear you talking about are your idiotic, naive ideas about romance and your feasting. You are so shallow it hurts! No mage with a little bit of intelligence and self-esteem would even look at you! Grow up, girl."

There, now she had stopped talking. Her face went white and her eyes filled with tears. Of course she hadn't expected such a reaction from her "little kender-friend". She was about to start crying when Raistlin continued acidly.

"And they don't care for crybaby's in the least. Neither do I. So don't think you can start whining. That is so pathetic."

He saw her visibly fight with her tears. When she finally spoke, her voice cracked once or twice, but she spoke clearly.

"You think me shallow, Nima Teketoll? Finally I know what you really think of me. It's true, I live for music and dancing and having fun. I love it because it makes people happy, and I like to make people happy. I think life is too short to ruin it with hate and greed and jealousy and ambition. I want to make people happy, because if they are happy they don't cut each other's throats. There is so much evil and violence in the world, but when people sing and dance there is no room for evil. That's why I love it so. Music is my life and if you really think this to be shallow then be it so. But I tell you what, you developed a nasty attitude these days. It's as if you want to make all the people who love you turn away from you. I don't recognize you anymore, Nima. And I think-"

She paused, again fighting tears. But this time she lost the struggle and little droplets slipped past long eyelashes and run down her cheeks.

"I think under these circumstances we should rethink the basis of our friendship. Fine, now you get what you want. You can talk to me again when you've fixed your attitude."

She turned about to leave. Raistlin watched her approaching the door. He didn't want to admit it but her little speech had made a certain impression on him. Maybe she wasn't that shallow after all. She was scatterbrained, though. Naranja had already opened the door when she turned her beautiful, young, tear-streaked face back at him.

"I came to ease your pain a little bit." She raised the lute "But since you abhor what I'm doing, you can just stay like this forever as far as I am concerned. Good night, Miss Teketoll."

When she was gone, Raistlin frowned. What had she meant with "I came to ease your pain?"

**A/N:**_ Word explanation__: Dally advised me to explain how the term "Chimera" is used in this story. I use it the way most roleplayers use it. Here, chimeras are magical creatures that carry features of different animal races. They are not a species of their own but have been mixed and mutated by magical cloning or however you like to call it. Their looks and abilities can vary a lot due to their progenitors._


	22. I'll Meet You at Midnight

Ahn-Li: Uhh... No idea how you came up with that speculation... (very innocent whistle) I don't know nothing or so. I'm just the writer. Orsany? Who is that? (looking around)

Lazy.kender: Wow, what a review. Well, its not the quickest update ever, but I hope its still quick enough.

Guan: Thanks. :)

Anastasya: Umm, lemme think... there was some truth revealed about the true nature of the artifact(s) and Raistlin and Naranja showed what they really think of each other. Could that count?

Dally: This bunny thing has become a running gag between us, hasn't it? They're after us! Take cover everybody!

Kinryuu: I think I know what you mean about Raistlin becoming OOC in the end of the last chapter and I agree with you. Not very Raistlin-like. But before you judge too hard on me, please read on patiently for a little longer. ;) I don't want to spoil, but some things in this story that may appear strange or illogical at first, happen for a reason. (To give another hint, see first paragraph below.)

singvogel: Hi there. Welcome. I'm glad you enjoyed it. :)

**Chapter 22 I'll Meet you at Midnight.**

As soon as the upset gypsy had left the wagon Raistlin realized that he had just made a mistake. Loading off his own frustrations at somebody else might have been satisfying but it was plainly intolerable when he didn't want to risk his disguise ruined to soon. Kender didn't treat others the way he had just treated the girl. Raistlin didn't understand himself anymore. He definitely was stressed, who wouldn't be in a situation like this? Nonetheless he had always kept a cool head during the most dangerous events. Why did his self-control fail him constantly these days? Where had his cool logic gone? He frequently acted without thinking, he got more emotional then usual and he let himself get distracted much too easily. Raistlin couldn't explain his own change of behavior, he wasn't developing kender characteristics, was he? A cold feeling ran down his spine and made him shiver. Whatever happened to him, he had to work against it. For now, it was too late to undo the last event. With a little bit of luck, the gypsies would think of it as a normal argument between two young women. Besides the girl seemed to be a cheerful person, maybe she wouldn't take it too serious when she had overcome her primary anger.

Having reassured himself, Raistlin's thoughts centred around the crystal once again. He had to solve this puzzle quickly. It was the key to all his trouble. He knew, if he solved this riddle he would find out who was behind this. He had to look for the creator of the impressive structure. But were to begin, were to... exhaustion took over and he fell into a deep sleep...

_He was again surrounded by the floating darkness. His staff spread light, but the darkness was still there, waiting for him. Luring him. He noticed a shadow a few steps away from him. SHE was there, too. Waiting for him? It seemed the kender seemed had spotted him likewise. _

_"Hey you are here again? Are you still angry at me? You are Raistlin, aren't you? I'm Nima. I think this is very strange that we meet again. Where are we? Will you attack me again or will you be civil now? Because, if you want to attack me, I'll better start running..." _

_The kender turned and made some steps away from him. Suddenly he heard her yell. _

_"Ouch that hurt. What happened to my foot?"_

_Raistlin walked closer. She sat on the ground holding her left ankle._

_"I... You... had an accident." he explained smirking slightly. _

_The kender stared at him unbelieving. All of a sudden, Raistlin tumbled, overwhelmed by an overpowering dizziness. Moreover, he felt sick. He had to sink down on the ground next to her. Standing was impossible. Was she responsible for this?_

_"Lunatic kender... what did you do to me?"_

_"What I did to YOU, you're asking? What did YOU do to ME?" she answered likewise getting angry. _

_"One word more, girl and I rip out your impertinent tongue and make it a fine piece of tapestry in my study room."_

_Anger had taken over and Raistlin didn't realize he lost his temper the second time this day. _

_"You destroyed my life by forcing me to live in this travelling insane asylum you call a Carnival Show, I was stalked by this fluffy-minded friend of yours, humiliated by cursed kender and knocked out by rude little gnomes! I really feel like levelling the whole camp in a blow that makes the Cataclysm look like a funfair! And right now an unknown sickness tortures me to no end and if you cannot explain this, I'll rather insist you keep your mouth shut or I will start my apocalyptic ambitions with you!"_

_He had too quit there for lack of air, which gave her the opportunity to answer. Of course kender were immune to intimidation. Especially when it came from somebody kneeling on the ground, just barely keeping himself upright._

_"YOU HAVE TROUBLE? HA! I HAVE TROUBLE! First of all your icky tower is just disgusting and then I have this terrible sickness with all the coughing and drinking that terrible tea, and then I go out and I see a lot of zombies because you have these monstrous eyes and I run away from everybody as I have never run before in all my life and then you and your dumb eyes make me drink for the first time and it tastes terrible as well and then I get horribly drunk and Dalamar carries me off and I think he will be really annoyed in the morning and I get sick and I get a headache just because you can't have normal eyes like everybody else and then I come here and suddenly my foot hurts like I don't know what and you tell me you had an awful time? You have no idea, man!!!"_

_They both stared at each other in shock, their tirades had left them speechless. Finally Nima learned that even capability of a kender-lung was limited. Lack of air likewise forced her to take a deep breath before she could go on. Raistlin thought frantically of a remark but the dizziness effectively prevented him from coherent thinking. He still had to cope with the fact that he just experienced the hangover of his life. He buried his forehead in his hand._

_"What in the name of Thakisis' dark demons did you drink, you gods-cursed creature?"_

_"You know, I have a name." Nima stated annoyed, hesitantly trying to move her foot._

_"Don't test my patience, kender!"_

_He sounded so angry she decided she better came up with the truth, now._

_"Let me see," she pondered, "how many did I have? I had one ale, and then I coughed. You really should do something about your health. Did you ever think of visiting the sea for better climatic conditions? Well, what was I saying, ah yes, one ale. And then I had another one because one didn't help much and I guess that guy gave me a third. But from then its all blurring a little. I have the feeling I drank more, I'm not sure. Maybe I had four or five ales or so. It was enough to make the eyething go away. But you really should think about living at the sea. You know the salty air may help your lungs and-"_

_"Enough, stop it, kender, stop it." _

_Gods, it was like having yet another Tasselhoff. Maybe they were related. What was he thinking? Of course all kender were like this. He felt so sick he just wanted to be in his tower in his study in one of his comfortable chairs. He needed rest, he needed a good night's sleep and the kender's chatter didn't help much. Didn't he have a silencing spell? Or a death spell? Desperately he wondered how it went, but the spells appeared all confused and mixed up in his memory. What the hell did Paladine do when he ran around as Fizban? Did he secretly test all of Krynn's alcoholic beverages? Raistlin had to fight a hysterical laughter. Maybe the old man hadn't been senile all the time, he had probably just been drugged on a constant level and nobody had ever realized it. Did gods happen to have a reek of alcohol when their Avatars got drunk or did their divine heritage prevent them from that? Gods, was he really thinking about that? Exhausted and resigned he let himself sink back into the soft cushions of his favorite chair. _

_He heard the kender utter sounds of astonishment, but for a strange reason her voice was far away. He was just tired. She was bugging him with questions but he didn't care anymore. He only wanted to be left alone and sink into the sweet nothingness of sleep._

_Open-mouthed, Nima watched the drunken mage staggering and finally standing up, just to let himself fall into a very big armchair that appeared behind him out of nothing. But there it was, solid and wooden. Where it had come from she couldn't tell. Raistlin just snuggled into some velvet cushions as if about to sleep. At first she shot questions at him of how he had done that. They were in the strange room with all the strange whirling colors again and she hadn't seen any furniture in this place before. But the mage didn't answer. He just ignored her and fell asleep. Nima wasn't used to being ignored. _

_"Hey", she yelled. "Raistlin-mage, talk to me!"_

_He didn't answer. She limped over to him, watching his sleeping form._

_"Hey, don't be sleepy." she tried it a second time. No reaction. Mischief glittered in her eyes and she poked him. He didn't even bother to move._

_"Are you dead?"_

_She poked him again. _

_"Wake up!"_

_The game was getting boring. She looked around. The whirling colors were as before, nothing had changed. Only the armchair was there and the man. He sat in the chair, relaxed. The staff of Magius lay casually on his knees, one hand still circling around it. Even in sleep he wouldn't let it go. His face had lost its permanent frown and the golden skin reflected the lively colors. The white hair fell down his shoulders in soft waves. He looked much younger now._

_"Hey, you look nearly nice when you are not scowling all the time."_

_No answer. _

_"Maybe when you wake up, we can have a civilized talk. You don't have to shout at me all the time. It's not my fault that this has happened. I know, you think I borrowed your body, and it's true, we kender often borrow a lot of strange things, but I didn't want to borrow this one. Not even accidentally. Its not that I found it somewhere. I was just there and I don't know why. And I gave it back to you, you see? You are you and I am myself again. I hope it stays this way. I'm sorry about the drunkenness, too. I didn't have any better ideas at that time. But now I think we should try to find out where we are. The colors are nice but somehow irritating. I don't know where on Krynn we are. Maybe your magic can help, don't you think?"_

_He slept. She also hadn't really expected an answer. Nima sighed. Great. Her only comrade was sleeping. And she wanted so dearly to learn more about him._

_"You have a strange personality." she told the sleeping man. "How did you grow to be what you are? I don't understand you." _

_She watched his chest moving slightly when he breathed. He was so tranquil now._

_"Too bad that you are only nice when you're sleeping."_

_His hair shimmered like silver. Silver, gold and black, that was him. His hair was soft, she knew it. She had felt it on her own head, touching it with those golden, human fingers. Would it be different if she touched it now? He slept, he wouldn't mind._

_"Do you mind?" she whispered._

_No answer._

_"Oh, fine."_

_Carefully, she bent over and touched his forehead. His skin was warm, warmer than she had expected. As if he had fever. No wonder he was sick. Her movement was slow and hesitant. Softly she let her fingers run along his temple and stroked his silver hair, forgetting everything around her. Strangely, this felt right somehow. _

_When she was about to repeat the gesture a second time, his left hand suddenly rose up, catching her limb in a painful grip. He stared at her, eyes blazing. Nima gasped from pain and shock._

_"What do you think you are doing, kender?" he snarled._

tbc


	23. All I Do Is Dream

_Another disclaimer: Thanks to H.P. Lovecraft, Chaosium Works and Michael Ende for inspiring my version of the dreamlands. For those of you who don't play the RPG "Call of Cthulhu" (-which will probably be everybody besides me-) : You can imagine the dreamlands as a dark and eerie version of Fantasia from the "Neverending Story". _

Anastasya: (grin.) Thanks! ;)

Ahn-Li: You did think of Dalamar/Nima? That's interesting because that couple never occurred to me. (Scratches head) No, no its not Dalamar/Nima. But since this story is subtitled "How to hook a mage" Dalamar may get another fine catch... Maybe someone who likes evil good-looking black mages... ;)

Guan: Thank you.

singvogel: Yes, I think it's definitely about time I start with the romance things or people will ask if I was quite right in my head when I labelled this a "romance".

Dally: Yes who could that be??? /ggg/ However, you agree with me that Raistlin and Naranja would never work, don't you? That would be worse as Raistlin/Chrysania. Can you imagine the power-hungry and the starry-crossed? "Darling, what do you do next?", "I become a god and gain absolute power.", "Oh, you're so sweet.", "Arrrrg!"

kenderling: I'm glad you enjoyed this. Sorry about the mistakes. Dally and I try to erase them as much as we can, and I always re-write the chapters according to her advice but even four eyes don't see everything. (And I have the suspicion that these mean little typos do it on purpose. They always jump out of hiding after I loaded a new chapter up!)

__

**Chapter - 23 - All I Do is Dream**

_Her touch had been like the effect of a spell. The moment her fingers had touched his forehead, it felt as if he'd been thrown into an icy pool of water and a burning fire at the same time. All of a sudden, he was fully awake. The strange feeling passed. But it left an irritating prickle along the trail her fingers left on his temple. He had no idea why she was doing what she was doing, but he wouldn't allow her to do it a second time. He had caught her hand and pushed her away, yelling at her to find out what she was up to._

_"I just wanted to-" Nima started an excuse but stopped in mid-sentence and stared at her hand. Her skin tickled where it had been in contact with his. What had she been doing? And why? She didn't know the answer herself. She blushed. _

_"Aiiich... Sorry, Sir. I didn't want to-... I just was- ...You had a piece of lint over there!"_

_Raistlin watched her stutter and didn't believe her in the least. Some kind of reaction had definitely happened between them, resembling the sizzling, reeking result of two incompatible substances brought together in an alchemist's cauldron. Could the girl have anticipated that? No, she looked abashed and flabbergasted. However, it was as if her ill-considered move had set something in motion. Something that should have stayed dormant. Wretched kender! He was about to teach her a lesson once for all, when another voice could be heard like coming from a distance. It was calling her._

"Nima, Nima!"

_The calling grew louder, rang in his ears. He tried to say something to the kender. Again her blue eyes caught his own. _

"Nima, Nima!"

_The alien voice pulled him away. Called him into another world. He felt himself falling. This time, it was he who fell into darkness. The last thing he noticed was an astonished look in the girl's face._

"Nima, Nima, wake up. Its a nice day!"

It was like ascending from another realm. For several moments, Raistlin didn't know where he was or what had happened. The darkness fled away leaving the smell of old wooden walls, milk and honey and brilliant sunlight streaming through a tiny window right above him. Slowly it dawned to him where he was. He was back in the juggler's camp. The babykender had grabbed his shoulder, shaking him and shouting his name.

"Mom and Dad said I should let you sleep, but I am so hungry because I need to grow a lot. Hrongar said that, too. Can I have your breakfast?"

The world of the gypsies had Raistlin back. He sent the child away. If a missed breakfast was the price for being undisturbed he gladly paid it. It had been another dream. Had it really only been a dream or was there more to it? Multidimensional magic... did they have a strange kind of mental connection that only worked in dreams or was he just overreacting? No, Raistlin decided, these dreams had a source. The last incidents had been too realistic for dreaming. Maybe the dreams were the missing part to the crystal-construct. Multidimensional magic... Similar maybe to dragonorbs. The crystals became more intriguing then ever. Raistlin's eyes glittered in fascination and ambition. He definitely needed to understand them, to analyze how they worked. If he only could learn how to control the stones... After a while he noticed that he held his crystal in his hand. During the dream he had apparently taken it out of his pocket and into his hand. Another proof that the crystals were the source of his "meetings" with the kender. The crystals were the key. It would take several days and some more analysis sessions, to find out more. At least it wouldn't get boring.

It was still fascinating three days later. Every afternoon and evening, when the others were occupied with their shows, he studied the crystal. It was not as successful as he had hoped, though. He definitely needed access to a laboratory, he needed his components and besides that he needed the second part. At the moment he was working with an incomplete structure. Raistlin had some ideas how the artifact worked, but without the active counterpart, it all stayed pure speculation. It was comparable to having the edge of an unknown weapon and with only this trying to determine what the blade would look like. Even more concerning was the dream issue. He met the girl every night now. Their little game developed a certain rhythm. By interrogating her he had found out some interesting facts. First of all, their visions of their surroundings were different. Where he saw only moving shadows, she saw bright and shining colors whirling around. He was not sure why it was like that. Apart from that, the "room" hadn't changed yet. It seemed to be immune against spells, too. Raistlin was relatively sure by now, that they were captured in a globule, a dimensional bubble. And this bubble was very likely the missing link between the crystals. He also had a pretty good idea in which dimension the globule was located. Apart from that he had not decided how to go on. If the globule was destroyed before the power of the crystals was broken, their souls would probably be sucked into this alien dimension and being caught there without a way back. He had tried to explain this to her, but he wasn't sure how much she actually understood of his theories. Oh, discussions with her could drive mages insane. He remembered it too well, it had been during their third shared dream.

_"Where are we?" the kender asked._

_"We are dreaming." Raistlin answered. "Or better, we are very likely visiting the dreamlands. That's a difference."_

_"What's dreamlands?"_

_"Another realm. A world different to our own. Another reality."_

_"Is it on Krynn?"  
"No. It's another dimension as I already said."_

_"What's a dimension?"_

_How could he explain that easier?_

_"It's...another... world."_

_"Like the afterworld?"_

_"No, the afterworld is yet another dimension." _

_"Oh." She was silent for a moment. "But it's a really boring world, don't you think? The only things that are ever here are us. It's astounding that this world shouldn't have any people living in it."_

_She was stretching his patience again. Why did he even bother to explain it to her? When he felt the blue eyes watching him curiously, he went on._

_"This is not all of the dreamlands, were in a dimensional cage that is only anchored in the dreamlands. It's only our minds being present. That's why in here we are in our normal shape and why we can make objects from our past appear in this place if we concentrate intensively enough. This was probably created for the ones who carry the crystal halves."_

_"Like we do?"_

_"Yes. The real dreamlands are as large as Krynn, with as many peoples, tribes and beings living there. They have their own deities and their own kinds of magic. People from other worlds can sometimes enter these lands via dreams. But this rarely happens by chance. And they are dangerous for invaders, especially for too curious kender without any knowledge of these things. However, this is not important at the moment, since we will not come in true contact with the dreamlands."_

_"Do they have unicorns in the dreamlands?" Nima asked, intrigued, naturally ignoring the part of those lands being dangerous. "Have you ever been to the dreamlands before?" _

_He shook his head. _

_"I don't know if they have unicorns, maybe, maybe not. And no, I haven't visited the dreamlands, yet. I was not through with my plans for Krynn, actually. But I read about them. Still, I don't see why the creator of the crystals wished us to be caught temporarily in this globule. At the moment, I don't see the point of that."_

_"Maybe it is for us to get to know each other better." Nima stated, beaming at him._

_Never, never discuss magic with a kender...._

Three days went by in the same fashion. In the morning he memorized the spells, in the evening he studied the crystal and in the night he figured out which options they had in the globule. The kender family tested his nerves as always but fortunately he was left alone by the gypsy and the kender's ill-mannered friends. However, Raistlin's studies hadn't made any real progress and the whole issue became more and more frustrating. Before he had made up his mind how to proceed further from there, somebody else decided that it was time for a change.

On the third day, Mrs. Teketoll made an appearance before Raistlin. He had just begun to concentrate on the spell on page five, when the book was suddenly snatched out of his hands. The kendermother had taken it and now raised an educational finger.

"Daughter." She began. "I've watched this long enough. It can't go on like this anymore."

Raistlin looked at her irritably.

"What do you want?"

"What I want?" She shook her head. "Darling, I won't take this silently anymore. You know exactly what I mean."

No he didn't. But he didn't want to argue about what ever she had in mind.

"Give me the book back... mother."

"NO, you don't get it back. Father should have never brought this nasty book at home in the first place. It is not good for you. Darling, you've always been too introspective and much into yourself, but this goes too far now. Since three days you sit inside, doing nothing but reading and learning. You father and I are worried about you."

"Would you kindly remember that my foot was hurt?"

"Oh, your foot should be healed enough for running around."

She was actually right, but he wouldn't tell her that. Since violence was out of question and intimidation likely to be ignored, he tried it politely.

"It's important for me, mother. I need to learn if I ever want to become a mage."

"Pah! Magery, sagery! That's for grumpy old men. But you are our girl and you should act your age. You cannot sit at home all day! You need to go out and do things that young, responsible kender should do. Go out! Play tricks on your fellows, do mischief, play games, find wondrous things, run from guardsmen and get into trouble, godammit!"

Had he just been introduced to the secrets of kender education? Somehow that was priceless. Raistlin lost his new-found sense of humor when Mrs. Teketoll went on.

"I'll go now and hide that stupid book until you are responsible enough not to forget your obligation to yourself and your family over this, young lady! No magic for you anymore." She turned around to leave.

"No, you can't go!" he said utterly perplex.

"Yes, I will. And you will go, too. I'm sorry I have to say this, young lady; but you're under HOUSEAREST!"

"What an impressive demonstration of educational skills." Raistlin muttered to himself. Wasn't housearrest the absolute contrary of what she wanted him to do? Oh, these illogical beings. He hadn't expected that kender even grounded their children. As Raistlin didn't make any effort to move, she raised her voice.

"No! NO! Don't look at me like this. You've heard correctly. HOUSE-A-REST! You will give the house a rest! OUT with you, young lady!"

Five minutes later, Raistlin gave up and left the wagon. Mrs. Teketoll's high-pitched screeching was simply unbearable. Great! And what was he to do now?

"And have a swim in the river, Darling!" he heard her voice from the wagon. "It's a nice sunny summer-day and you really need a bath! I want to see wet hair when you're back!"

TBC

**A/N**: Hey, wanna play a game? Here's a a riddle for those of you who like riddles: Who can tell me why Nima sees "whirling colors" in their shared dream while Raistlin notices only a "floating darkness"? I admit that the roleplayers among you are probably in advantage on this one... However, who gives the correct answer first can have a minor appearance in this story if he or she wants. :D


	24. Down by the Riverside

A/N: Ok, first the riddle-issue: you were all pretty close and right in general (Thumb up!) since it has to do with their attitudes towards life. Though Ahn-Li was definitely closest in linking it to the alignments. Yep. Its the alignment. In technical terms they see their own "aura-colors". I assume that Raistlin and Nima both have an alignment to chaos, and in most D&D-Interpretations chaos alignments causes the aura to appear as a whirling vortex. While Evil darkens an aura, Good lightens it. Nima, by the way, is supposed to be Chaotic-Neutral (generally perceived as chaotic colors) with a serious tendency towards Good. (Brightness factor!)

Now I made sure everybody will know what it means should their perceptions ever change...

Dally: Gee, yes! ROFL I fear they could nearly work for the "Wrongest Couples Ever" challenge. Though I think I will still vote for Sturm/Lord Soth as worst possible pair: "In eons nothing touched my hardened, undying, dread-filled soul as this lonely man... and his moustache!" (Only Dalamar/Fizban could possibly top that! Gnehehe.) Um...err... sorry to all you other readers who don't know what weird ideas we're talking about. But what the hell do you expect of the people who write stories about elven self-help-groups, hn? The bunnies made us do it!

Ahn-Li: A Marion-incident is a cool idea, but we would get some logical contradictions with the Blue-Star universe and timeline wouldn't we? Well, ok we could ignore it, but why not Agent Miiro from the PPC instead? I have a nice idea for the agent to pop in...

singvogel: For another update of Blickwinkel, I'll stuff you full with cookies of all sorts. I'll even get Klingon Gagh or Icecream or Otik's spiced potatos..

everybody: Thank you for reading and kind comments. ;)

Now onward...

--

**Chapter 24 - Down by the Riverside **

After the involuntary recess from his studies, Raistlin decided to alter his strategy slightly and to focus his attention on the old alchemist again. Since he was stuck with his studies anyway, he could also take a break for a while. He didn't care about Mrs. Teketolls effort to hide the spellbook. He would be able to locate it when he needed it again.

While he appeared walking aimlessly through the camp, another thought entered his mind. He needed to convince the jugglers to consider Solace as their next stay. Nima had told him where she and Dalamar were heading. He couldn't believe that she actually was able to fool his apprentice. How could somebody take her for him? He would have a word with the elf when they met again.

More important was meeting the kender there and to get hold of the second artifact. Maybe in this manner their problem could be solved. In Solace he would also be able to buy the components he needed. And with Dalamar's help the analyzing should work out much better then now. Fortunately, they were not far away from Solace. He guessed they could make it in two weeks if they didn't take any stops. He needed to speak with the person in charge of the route. Carefully he asked several people. He tried to behave as kender-like as he could, speaking too much and too fast. His disguise seemed to work and it didn't take him long to get the information. The camp's elders decided the route, however they always took advice from Hrongar. Now he had a real reason to talk to the alchemist. Raistlin marched to the alchemist's wagon.

As he approached it, he saw two persons enter. Tiomar and- he didn't trust his eyes. Another kender. But not any kender. Could it be? Tasselhoff Burrfoot? It was him, Raistlin recognized the brown topknot. What in the Abbys did Tasselhoff do here? Sneaking closer the mage approached the window. It was too high for his recent height to get a look into the interior of the wagon but he could listen to what was said.

Tiomar stoically explained to a third person, probably the alchemist, that this morning a traveller had arrived. He was headed to Solace to visit some old friends and now he had asked if they by chance had the same route. If that was the case, he wished to travel with them. Oh no. Not Tasselhoff. Surely the kender wanted to see Caramon and Tika.

'That's my luck. That's just my luck.'

Then Tasselhoff started speaking. How nice it was to be here, how fine the camp was, how interesting all the people were, how happy he was to meet some fellow kender and how wonderful the shared time would be.

Then a third voice spoke. That had to be Hrongar. The eavesdropper listened even more closely now. Instantly Raistlin was disappointed. The man probably sat in the backside of the wagon; Raistlin couldn't understand what he was saying. He couldn't even hear his voice clearly. That was not what he had hoped for. Still, there was something in the man's voice that seemed familiar in a certain respect, but Raistlin couldn't tell what it was.

Then, he heard Tasselhoff again.

"Oh, I'm so glad I can stay. You will really go to Solace? You don't have to do that for me... what do you say?... Yes, yes, the people of Solace would be a grateful audience... Im sure, actually I know some people there who have influence... yes, they'd be more than happy to see the show, I'm sure." The kender sputtered in his usual cheerful tone. "I am so happy. Actually travelling all on my own became really boring and I-"

He was interrupted by Hrongar, who now cried out Tasselhoff's name in surprise. The kender was silent for a moment, then adding:

"Oh, it's you? Oh... I hadn't recognized you at first either. Oh, but why do you call yourself something different now?

The stranger muttered something unintelligible.

"Oh, well, that's a good reason actually." Tasselhoff laughed. "That's so great, I have so many stories to tell since we saw each other the last time. Did I tell you the story of how I met with a black dragon? Yes I did? Oh then maybe the story of..."

Raistlin turned away. He had heard enough. Great. Just too great! With Tasselhoff in the camp his life wouldn't get any easier. He had to find a way to avoid the kender as much as he could. But it was interesting that Tasselhoff seemed to know the alchemist. Maybe with Tasselhoff's help he could learn more about the wizard's past. But he had to be very careful with the all too curious kender, though.

Raistlin postponed his own parley with Hrongar for a while. It was more important to escape Tasselhoff's notice for the moment. Besides, it seemed already decided that they would travel to Solace. Now it wasn't necessary anymore to get involved in this. The less he showed interest for the route, the less suspicious it was. Better to go to the river now. Nima's mother looked at him from a distance, her mouth forming two words, while she gestured towards her own ponytail. "Wet! Hair!"

Two weeks. He just had to survive two weeks...

Raistlin strolled slowly to the river, when a light voice was calling his -Her!- name. Did he actually get used to being called 'Nima'? He turned around only to see Tasselhoff running near. Apparently, his plan to avoid the kender wasn't going on very well.

"Hey, you are Nima?" Tasselhoff asked him breathless from running. "I'm Tasselhoff Burrfot. At your service." Tasselhoff bowed comically. However, Raistlin noted a light flush on his cheeks as if the kenders was slightly embarrassed or exited. Maybe his imagination had played a trick on him, since as Tasslehoff rose again the kender grinned brightly as usual.

"You are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen in my life." Tasselhoff explained to a very taken aback Raistlin. Instantly the mage remembered Mrs. Teketoll's words.

_"You really are slim and sweet and you are a nice-looking girl and I swear, every young kender on Krynn would be more than happy to have you as a girlfriend."_

No, no, please, no!

"Where are you going?" Tasselhoff asked as his companion didn't answer.

"To the river."

"Oh, what a great idea, how about us two sweethearts having a bath?"

"You may be a sweetheart, I am surely not." Raistlin marched onward to the riverbank, leaving the nasty kender behind. Of course, Tasselhoff followed him.

"You are playing tough, he?" the kender asked grinning. "But I like girls like that. How about I take you out one of these days?"

"No."

"Still tough. Maybe on Thursday?"

"No."

"Friday?"

Raistlin clenched his fists, thus preventing himself from flattening his old acquaintance with a spell. Tasselhoff getting romantic was something he had hoped to never have to see.

They had reached the riverbank.

"Did ever someone tell you that you have a really sweet face and wonderful blue eyes?" the kender asked Raistlin. The mage decided that it was best to ignore Tasselhoff's compliments. But it was true. Nima's blue eyes were impressive. Which actually was disturbing because he usually never even noticed a female's eyecolor.

"I'm a lucky kender just for meeting you." Tasselhoff stated.

"Aha." was all the mage answered.

'Let's get over with this.'

Raistlin stepped out of his sandals and was about to pull off his tunic when all of a sudden he noticed an irritating phenomenon. Tasselhoff was silent. He halted and looked at the kender. Tasselhoff was watching him open mouthed, his cheeks glowing and his eyes popping nearly out of his head.  
"WHAT?"

The kender shook his head. "Oh, don't feel disturbed by me." He said grinning nervously, waiting for Raistlin to undress further. Slowly Raistlin got the point of this. He was a girl now. And Tasselhoff was... That perverted little...

"YOU MORON!" The mage yelled and gave Tasselhoff a quick punch pushing the surprised kender directly into the river. With a big splash Tasselhoff fell into the water. Still fully clothed. Now Raistlin was smirking at him.

"Let that teach you a lesson, Burrfoot."

Tasselhoff crawled to the shore again. His mischievous grin when he climbed out didn't foretell anything good.

"That demands revenge!" Tasselhoff cried and threw himself at Raistlin.

Raistlin ran. Followed closely by the wet kender. The chase went on for several seconds, until Raistlin learned that Nima might be agile, but Tasselhoff had simply more strength which made him run faster. The wizard felt hands grab his waist and suddenly he was thrown over Tasselhoff's shoulder. The kender marched back with him to he riverbank. Raistlin kicked and pounded on Tasselhoff's back with clenched fists.

"Let me go, you imbecile rowdy. I will teach you to let me down, you will regret that! I swear, you will regret that!"

Tasselhoff laughed heartily.

"You are really gorgeous when you are angry, love."

"I'm not your love! Let me down instantly or-"

Suddenly he saw Knoblar Snugglepuck coming from the camp.

"What's going on here?" asked the red-haired gnome. "Your new boyfriend, Nima?"

"Help me!" Raistlin yelled. "Make him let me down!"

They had nearly reached the river. The gnome watched them winking one eye and scratching his head.  
"One copper!" he demanded.

"Are we haggling now, you little rat?"

"One copper!"

"Damn. Yes." Raistlin gave in.

Tasselhoff had reached the shore. The gnome run up to him. Then, Knoblar placed his little hands on his hips and took a deep breath to make his chest look more manly.

"Hey, you." the tiny gnome addressed the kender. "Let her down now, or face the wrath of Knoblar the Mighty!"

Tasselhoff nodded.

"Agreed."

He threw Raistlin into the river.

When Raistlin finally came out of the water, his tunic soaked, only Knoblar was left standing there. The gnome drew out a demanding hand towards him.

"One copper."

--

**A/N**: Haha, more romantic issues. I bet nobody anticipated this. And? Surprised? Hey somebody for Raistlin/Tasselhoff-slash? I guess I would be the first one to write that. No? Nobody? Thought so. Hehe.


	25. The Methods of a Ranger

**A/N**: Ahn-Li: ROFL So it is Agent Marion Miiro then. (grin) And if you're a fantasy character/writer you should always be careful of precious gems. ;) These nasty things tend to bring innocent folks into trouble as Nima and Raistlin just experienced...

Hilary: Yep. I know, the idea is scaring. (And I admit that I don't want to imagine this to vividly... creepy...)

Kellalor: You liked the corny pick up lines? Read on, dude! The story is full of people trying to hit on other people in the most stereotyped fashion...

Guan: I'm glad you liked the comedy although the next few chapters will have a more serious tone...

Freesnow: Luckily in the books we never saw Tasselhoff in love. So it is even more fun to imagine how he would try to impress the "maid" of his heart.

Anastasya: Glad you do. :)

Childlike Empress: Don't wanna spoil too much but if Raistlin and Naranja were to become a couple I could also have written a better story about him and Chrysania. Nope, I fancy something more original. Naranja is important for Raistlin, though. And I promise some surprises in the next chapters. I only fear it will take another ten chapters before the real romances set in.

Thank you all for reviewing, here it goes...

--

**Chapter 25 - The Methods of a Ranger**

Raistlin fumed. He looked at the gnome in a manner that made the youth bring some distance between them. Nevertheless, Knoblar still insisted on his payment. "One copper. He let you down. One copper!"

"He wasn't supposed to throw me into the river, you-"

The gnome never learned what the Nima was about to call him, since all of a sudden she stood still, staring at something behind Knoblar's back.

"What is with you, Nima?" the gnome asked his friend. When he turned around, there was nothing. Knoblar looked back to Nima. She was moving again, shaking her head.

"There was- oh forget it."

Nima wrang out her tunic, grabbed her things and hurried back to the camp. Probably to change clothes. Knoblar shrugged. He watched the riverbank closely for a minute but there was nothing suspicious or strange. Finally he followed Nima back to the camp. His father was absolutely right. There were some things about females a man could never understand.

Raistlin on the other hand, was thinking about what he had spotted for a moment. He was sure, behind them in the bushes had been a beholder. The creature had fled instantly. Now it was for sure. Somebody was observing him. Somebody powerful enough to summon and control a beholder. Compared to that, a lovesick Tasselhoff was the least of his problems.

Before Raistlin had reached the kender's wagon, Tiomar stepped out of the shadow of a large beech. The half-orc motioned him to follow him to a quiet spot between two empty wagons.

"We have to talk."

Raistlin crossed his arms.

"Make it short, I want to change."

"It won't take long." Tiomar said.

He didn't sound too friendly. Raistlin tensed. What was going on here?

"It's about you. I've been observing you. I've noticed that your manner and everything have changed since the very incident with the gem. And you pretty much keep it too yourself."

"That's none of your concern, Tiomar."

"It isn't as long as you don't hurt others. But that you did. You hurt Naranja. I know because she has been very sad. She won't tell me either, but I know that it's about something that you have said, Nima."

"Oh this." Raistlin half-heartedly explained. "It was a silly argument. I didn't mean it."

"Whatever. You will tell her that. You will apologize. And you will start being civil again to her and the others. You have time until tonight."

Raistlin snorted. What did the ranger think he was?

"And what if I don't want to?" The mage asked sweetly.

Tiomar shrugged. He had expected this question.

"Then I will catch you and simply give you the spanking of your life. I've always been your friend, but if you think you can behave like a spoiled brat than I will treat you like one."

Raistlin just shook his head lightly. The ranger wouldn't dare. He'd better not.

"I'm serious about that, Nima. You will beg Naranja's pardon and make her happy again, or your royal butt and my hand have an appointment tonight, lady!"

Wherever Raistlin went this day, he always felt Tiomar's warning gaze following him around. Now that it was sure, that he was watched by more dangerous creatures then the half-orc, it was more important then ever to behave as inconspicuous as possible. Therefore he had to make friends with the gypsy maid again. Otherwise, he probably had to face the ranger tonight. And Raistlin was neither inclined to let himself being beaten up nor did he look forward to injure Tiomar. All on behalf of a successful disguise of course. It surely hadn't anything to do with the fact that the ranger seemed to be the only half-way intelligent person in the camp. Which didn't mean that he respected him in any way. The bastard had just offered him a beating, which was definitely no source of respect. And in no way it was some kind of sentimental sympathy because he saw another victim of an otherwise spiteful society in the half-orc. No it was just due to the circumstances. Yes.

So it was a mission of diplomacy now. He just waited for a chance to find Naranja and give her a charming little apology. Still, he found different excuses to pass the time until he finally made up his mind and went to her wagon, knocking on her door. He didn't appreciate the idea of having to apologize at someone, especially not at a girl much inferior in years and ability, but that was the easiest way to avoid further trouble. Although, if it was that easy then why had it taken him three hours to get to her door?

The door was opened by an elderly woman. She wore a dark dress and many golden arm rings and necklaces just like Naranja. A blue scarf was draped around her shoulders. Her black hair had already begun to grey and she wasn't quite slim anymore, but when she moved he saw from whom Naranja had inherited her graceful manner and light step. Even though the eyes were surrounded by wrinkles, her lips were still full and her smile was charming. The women had very likely been beautiful once. It had to be Lady Toronja, mother of Naranja and the fortuneteller of the show. She smiled at him at first, but after realizing who stood in front of her, her smile somewhat froze. Nevertheless she motioned Raistlin to come in. "She is in the backside.", the fortuneteller said in a dark rich voice. "Or did you come to see the future?"

Raistlin shook his head.

"No I wanted to talk to Naranja."

"Speak of Thakisis," Raistlin murmured under his breath as the gypsy girl came to the front of the wagon.

"Who is i- Oh its you."

Naranja didn't look to happy at the sight of her visitor. Apparently the girl had taken his scolding much more serious then he had thought. She wouldn't make this easy for him.

"Hello." he began.

Behind him the fortuneteller muttered something about having a tea-invitation at someone else's and exited the wagon leaving Raistlin and Naranja facing each other, an awkward silence between them. When they finally spoke, they both started simultaneously.

"Well, I just wanted to tell-"  
"Do you want a tea?"

They both stopped. Raistlin nodded.

"Tea would be fine."

He sat down on cushion and waited for her to boil water and throw some herbs into it. When finally the sweet smell of fresh herbs filled the air, Naranja handed him a mug and helped her self. Then she sat down next to him.

"Why did you come?" the girl asked, sipping her tea.

Raistlin turned the mug in his hands and stared at the liquid.

"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said. I just had a really bad day and my foot hurt, I was tired... I shouldn't have let it out all on you. I'm sorry."

Now he had said it, hopefully that was it.

"It was really mean, you know."

Of course it wasn't over yet. Why did women have to make everything so complicated? Women always needed to talk things out endlessly. A man would have been fine with what he had said and either have told him to get his ass out of the house or would have accepted the apology without further ado. But no, she had to discuss it of course. Women! That was one of the reasons why he had preferred a male apprentice.

"Sorry."

"Do you really think I'm shallow?"

That was his severe punishment for being rude once. Now they would go through each sentence he had said, discussing every single word.

"No, I don't think you're shallow. I just couldn't stand your talking about wizards anymore."

"But why?" Naranja wondered.

He sighed.

"Because, because..." he needed a witty explanation that wouldn't make him look too self-righteous. Suddenly, he had an idea.

"Because I don't want to see my... best friend... falling for a wizard. You deserve better."

"Why?"

He looked at her gravely. He would give her this warning only once.

"Because mages are terrible lovers. They have a lousy temper, are constantly busy with their studies and if you are really in need of help, they have probably chosen the other side."

"But-"

"No, listen! I see that you have a good heart and you have the ability to be happy, which not many people are blessed with, but I really do believe that you are too naive and you most surely will get hurt if you are not careful. If you fall in love and your love betrays you, it will hurt much worse then my careless words some days ago."

She looked at him puzzled, but he didn't notice her, his gaze fixed on the cup.

"I didn't mean to make you feel bad, I just wanted you to stop entertaining hopeless fantasies that will bring you nothing but pain and suffering."

He still stared into his tea. He hadn't taken a sip, yet. Had he said too much? Actually he hadn't meant the discussion to come out like that. The words had come spontaneously.

"Nima", The gypsy touched his shoulder softly. "You've never sounded so serious before. And you look like you know what you are talking about. As if you _have_ suffered. Why? When? I didn't know..."

"Who? Me?" Naranja's concerned, compassionate voice brought Raistlin back to reality. "No, I haven't, I just can imagine that it would be like this. After having occupied myself with wizards and everything, I just don't think you should set your hopes on one." he added hastily hoping it sounded more Nima-like again.

"I don't know, I-"

"Please", finally he raised his head and looked at her, pleading. "Can't we just get over with this? I said that I'm sorry. Three times, if I'm not mistaken. This whole discussion has not made much sense since the beginning, and it still doesn't. I just want you not to be angry anymore. Can't you forgive? ... They were only words."

The gypsy nodded slowly.

"Yes, we can get over with it. But, never forget that words can hurt much more than a weapon of finest steel. I never knew you were good at hurting people with words, but you are if you want to, believe me, Nima. You are really good at this game."

Oh, if the gypsy only knew how right she was. Telling a mage that words could actually hurt people... Whatever, the most important thing was that she stopped sulking now. He relaxed a little. The worst was over.

They sat there in the dusky wagon for another while, drinking tea and not saying much. Eventually Naranja decided to make up another conversation.

"I heard you have a suitor, Nima."

"Hn?" Raistlin looked up from his tea.

"The newcomer, the kender."

"Ah, you mean Tasselhoff. Did the gnome tell you?"

"Yes, you can't keep a secret very long around here." The gypsy grinned.

"I have to keep that in mind." Raistlin muttered to himself, before continuing louder. "And no, he is not my suitor, no matter what the gnomish pest told you."

Naranja laughed.

"Ah yes, Knoblar can be quite nasty, following us around trying to convince us to play with him. I wish we had more younger children with the show. Like your brother. We have to forgive Knoblar, maybe he gets more sensible when he is older."

"A gnome? I doubt so."

"Says a kender... Look who's talking."

He grinned wryly.

"Well, point for you."

She smiled back at him.

"And what about you and this Tasselhoff now?"

"Nothing, of course." he said, crossing his arms. "We threw each other into the river. That's all."

Her smile became broader.

"Nima, are you getting annoyed about this? Getting annoyed means that you probably like-"  
"Don't push it." he warned her.

She giggled, but to his relief changed the topic to a less dangerous point.

"I was inside a lot during the last few days." Naranja began. "I had a lot of time to think about... everything... and I used the time to write another song for the next show. I like it very much but it turned out to be somewhat melancholy. You want to hear?"

She wrote songs? What kind of songs would a girl like her write? Probably a lovesong. But maybe music would be a nice change for having the gnome or even worse, Tasselhoff around. Hopefully that girl was good. She watched him expectantly.

"You have an audience." he said making gesture that parodied a curtly bow.

"Great." she beamed at him. "I'll just tune the harp..."

TBC


	26. Killing Me Softly

**A/N:** Thanks to the reviewers. :)

Here we go again...

--

**26 - Killing Me Softly**

Naranja finally got all the harpstrings in tune. He watched while she worked on the strings, pulling on them and listening closely in order to find the slightest disharmony. It took a while. The girl's face showed concentration while she worked herself methodically from the high cadences towards the deep tones, each time her graceful fingers pulling a single note or a chord. She only finished when everything was absolutely perfect. She didn't take her music lightly, he suddenly realized. Her face while she listened to each sound from her instrument was as focused as his was when he concentrated on spellbooks and scrolls.

And then, she began to play. At first the music was easy and relaxing. The tune was that of an ancient ballad, a commoner's song. The chords of the tiny harp filled the room, they told of sweet summerwinds, and childhood dreams, of wandering clouds and a sparkling river. But then Naranja began to sing. She had a rich soprano. At first he listened to her words, but soon her song washed over him, carrying him away, making him see what the words said.

_On either side the river lie  
Long fields of barley and of rye,  
That clothe the world and meet the sky..._

He could see the river she sang of, and the field. It was present in each sparkling note of the harp. And the sky was in her voice as were the the rich fields... She sang on about a castle near the river and about a lady dwelling inside the stony walls.

_...Four grey walls, and four grey towers...  
...And the silent isle imbowers  
The Lady of Shalott..._

Slowly, without his notice, his eyes closed while a vision of a person formed in his mind. A shadowy figure, a prisoner in a dark tower, imprisoned there, a little sad but not unhappy...

_...There she weaves by night and day  
A magic web with colours gay.  
She has heard a whisper say,  
A curse is on her if she stay  
To look down to... _

The prisoner of the tower was a weaver, an artist. There was magic in her craft, magic in her fingers, in her creation. Imprisoned, yet working the most wondrous things with her spells. Still, she mustn't look outside, was not allowed to look at the fair city which golden roofs she could see from afar. So near the life and nevertheless sealed away, working on creations the outside world would never approve of or value.

'Don't look at the city!' his mind cried out to her image, while he watched her walking nervously through the room. You are safe, you are lonely, but safe from their carelessness. You still have your work... it fulfills you.

_...She knows not what the curse may be,  
And so she weaveth steadily,  
And little other care hath she,  
The Lady of Shalott..._

A curse? Of course, the world was a curse! Her tower might only be a fantasy, still it protected her. But the prisoner was hungry for life. Watching them working in the fields and riding along the road. She longed to be part of their world... 'A mistake, Lady, you make a mistake...'

_...And moving through a mirror clear  
That hangs before her all the year,  
Shadows of the world appear..._

_...Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,  
An abbot on an ambling pad,  
Sometimes a curly shepherd lad,  
Or long-hair'd page in crimson clad..._

'Don't look at them, they only show you what you will never have, what they will never give you because they will never understand...'

He didn't hear the singer's beautiful voice anymore. He was part of the story she told him. The song, her music spoke to him, to his heart, as if somehow the music knew is most inner feelings. He was completely lost in the song and the tale...

_...But in her web she still delights  
To weave the mirror's magic sights,  
For often through the silent nights  
A funeral, with plumes and lights..._

'You see? A funeral. It can only bring you death... that's how all human life ends. With death... but you could be immortal, never have to suffer from age, from sickness... you will not feel the pain of constant rejection and taunts... You still have your web and the magic... it is still beautiful...'

_...Or when the Moon was overhead,  
Came two young lovers lately wed.  
"I am half sick of shadows," said  
The Lady of Shalott..._

'Love, what does love mean anyway? It only leads to suffering. Always.'

_...His broad clear brow in sunlight glowed;  
On burnished hooves his war-horse trode;  
From underneath his helmet flowed_

_His coal-black curls as on he rode..._

And the prisoner knew what love was. And Raistlin knew that it wouldn't end well. She would suffer. He suffered with her. It was like he was sharing her feelings, he stepped near the image, desperately trying to touch her, to tear her away from her magic mirror, in which she watched a knight passing on the road. 'Don't do it lady, don't make me see my own life spread out before me like I see yours now... don't show me how I failed...'

_...She left the web, she left the loom,  
She made three paces through the room..._

'Don't go. Don't do it Lady. These barriers, cost you - no, me - years to erect, they keep me safe, don't break them down. You'll destroy everything you - I worked for.. the magic...'

_...Out flew the web and floated wide;  
The mirror cracked from side to side;  
"The curse is come upon me," cried  
The Lady of Shalott..._

'There now? That's what you wanted? You'll get killed. Love will get us both killed. That's why people like us should never fall in love! It never works out for such beings like us, never...'

_...And down the river's dim expanse  
Like some bold seer in a trance,  
Seeing all his own mischance --  
With a glassy countenance..._

'A lament. Sing your own lament, lady. The singer sings it. Can you hear her voice? It gives you life. Like my very own words give life to my spells. Like your Weaving, your Web gave life to your creation... Now, it all will be lost. You see what that's leading to? I do... I do, I've seen this all before... I cry for you, Lady... Why did you crave happiness? Why? I never did. I can live without this. I really can. It's all that makes me go on... Had I ever wanted happiness I'd have broken long before... Still I understand you, Lady... That's what frightens me most...'

_...Lying, robed in snowy white  
That loosely flew to left and right --  
The leaves upon her falling light --  
Through the noises of the night..._

The lady stepped into a boat. He saw her laying down in this little shell, preparing to die. To die out of love... 'Your love never loved you back... he is like the world and the world simply can't. Still you know you have to die... and you accept your fate... You accept that the world made you suffer... Why, in the name of the gods do you accept that? You should hate the world for what it did to you, you should rage and let them feel your scorn. Still you try to preserve your love... its hopeless, you are lost... so am I...'

_...Heard a carol, mournful, holy,  
Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,  
Till her blood was frozen slowly,  
And her eyes were darkened wholly..._

'Naranja's lovely voice, the harp... so sad, so beautiful, though... Sing harp, sing a song for the lonely figure in the boat and for me...'

_...Under tower and balcony,  
By garden-wall and gallery,  
A gleaming shape she floated by,  
Dead-pale between the houses high..._

'Thats it. Now she dies. I see the boat entering the city. She was doomed from the beginning. Am I doomed? I live in a tower just like her. And it's not the tower that I call a home. Its within me. Its me... Am I doomed like her? Make it end. Girl, your song is wonderful, yet cruel... make it end... make my torment end...'

_...And in the lighted palace near  
Died the sound of royal cheer..._

'I can't see or hear it anymore, I don't want to, please...'

_...The web was woven curiously  
The charm is broken utterly  
Draw near and fear not - This is I -  
The Lady of Shalott..._

...It took Raistlin a while to realize that the song had ended. The harp's sweet melody hung still in the air. Naranja sat with the instrument between her knees, her hands softly stroking the harp's shining wooden frame. She smiled. He saw traces of wet on her cheeks. So she had also felt it? Had she seen the scenery as he had? But how? How could she have felt what he had felt, and how in the Abyss had she done it? He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to regain his casualness, his self-control. He sensed that his own cheeks were wet, too. Had he really cried? Had this song really held the power to make him cry? What had she done and how? It had been like a dream, like a spell...

Naranja slowly opened her eyes and smiled at him.

"I love it. It's not yet perfect, but I love it. What do you think?"

All of a sudden he realized what had happened. He realized what the true profession of the girl was. No, it was not something as simple as tricking the gullible. He had heard of this, still he had never before met anybody so gifted with this kind of magic -Yes, magic!- then this girl. It took hard work and practice to achieve this through songs...

'Girl, did you have any idea what your song did to me? Do you have any idea of what you can do with this gift?'

Naranja watched him expectantly for a while. Eventually she smiled.

"Guessing that I just made a kender speechless, I think it can't have been that awful."

Raistlin slowly answered her smile, shaking his head.

"I never had any idea that bardic magic could be that potent." he croaked.

She came over and put a hand around his shoulder. Suddenly she noticed something, dumbfounded.

"Nima, did you cry?"

"Your little spell hit me harder then you might have thought." he admitted.

No she probably couldn't have known. He himself would have never expected that he was actually that vulnerable to a bardic spell. He had to be careful in the future. She reached him a handkerchief.

"Well, my music maybe isn't shallow, after all."

He groaned. Of course she had done that on purpose, the little witch. And she had gotten him cold.

"You will hold that against me for the rest of my life, won't you?" he mumbled into the handkerchief. His emotions were still under the influence of her song. He tried to banish them from his mind, to banish the turmoil her performance had caused in his soul. He couldn't allow himself any more emotional weaknesses now.

Naranja had no idea what went on inside the mind of her little friend. She just supported her tiny companion who suddenly had reacted to the melancholy of the music much stronger then her light cheerful kenderheart should have allowed her to. Now, she felt a little sorry for Nima, she had just wanted to teach a lesson not actually to bring real sadness. It was time to cheer up again. For both of them.

"No," she answered jokingly. "Only every single day during the next ten years..."

"Oh, that helps me a lot." 'Nima' retorted with a hint of friendly sarcasm.

Finally, they decided to have another cup of tea, but even an hour later, Nima was still contemplative and strangely subdued. Naranja decided to keep an eye on the kender from now on. Her little friend had changed so much...

TBC

**--**

**A/N:** Though I frequently write filk, this chapter was my first songfic. So be kind on me, people. Of course I don't want to pretend that I had the skill to write the cited Lyrics above. I borrowed them from Alfred Lord Tennyson, from his wonderful ballad "The Lady of Shalott". (I just found them for him. And I gave them back afterwards, I swear!)

If somebody wants to know who inspired me on the musical side, go and listen to Loreena McKennit's great version of the poem. That woman has a voice... I heard that song a lot during my week in the hospital over and over. There I noticed how well it would fit into he story. By the way, to make my ramblings complete: You'll probably not find the last verse in most versions of the poem. It's the ending of the poem as it was written in 1837. The re-written, more popular ending from 1847 unfortunately wouldn't have fitted Dragonlance and if you know the poem, you know why. ;)


	27. More Music

**Guan**: You get a medal for being the most steadfast reviewer FFnet ever saw. Thanks. ;) (Petalwing decorates Guan in a solemn ceremony)

**Childlike Empress**: Glad you liked it. The poem can be found on diverse online sources. You can google it out if you like. I found this page most helpful. It contains romantic pictures and gives detailed information about the history of the poem. This page also includes the older version but likewise some spelling mistakes. So if you want to use the poem for something like I did, it is better to check other pages too. By the way, I'm sure you'll enjoy the future couple(s) in this story even if It's not Raistlin/Naranja. ;)

**Singvogel**: Wow, hadn't expected that so many guys are acquainted with the song

**Shannon Holmes**: Thank you. :) Here it comes...

**Blackjack**: I'll deal with you soon, my friend... soon.... gnehehe....

--

**Chapter 27 - More Music**

Eventually Raistlin and Naranja's companionable silence was disturbed by the fortuneteller getting back. The mage only waited for an opportunity to bid farewell to the gypsy women. Even though this time Naranja's presence hadn't been completely unpleasant, there was a limit of the amount of polite conversation he was able to make with her and her mother. The opportunity to leave showed up soon but not in the way he had intended.

With nightfall the show members had gathered around campfires sharing meals and music.

"What about joining the others, Nima?" Naranja insisted. Raistlin was about to utter a quick excuse, he was not in the least interested in even more senseless talk. But Naranja went on. "Maybe we can get Hrongar to tell us another story of his travels."

Raistlin left his excuse unsaid.

"Hrongar? Do you think so?" the mage asked instead.

Naranja shrugged.

"I dont' know. Most of the time he sticks to himself, but you know how he claims to love the company of those 'gregarious young people' as he always calls us. If he does join us, you never know what will happen."

At least it was a chance to watch the 'alchemist'. Or maybe even 'mage'? Listening to his 'tales', whatever that meant, could perhaps grant some hints on this man's identity.

Finally, Raistlin nodded. Naranja smiled. She smiled so often. He was sure he had never met a person who smiled as frequently as she did, except for the irritating kender girl maybe. Oh yes, these girls definitely fit together. They had already left the wagon and were strolling to the campfire when it suddenly occurred to him that this had been the second time that day he had thought of the kender maid. Wasn't meeting her in dreams enough? Did she haunt him now even in his waking hours? What a nasty idea.

They walked towards a bigger campfire, and took a place next to Tiomar, who had placed himself just near enough to the others so that he wouldn't be sitting apart from them. Raistlin appreciated that because it asved him from having to sit next to kender or gnomes.

When they approached the half-orc, Tiomar and the mage shared a short, appraising glance. The ranger nodded slightly and silently moved a little giving Raistlin space to sit on his blanket. Of course the half-orc was satisfied seeing both 'girls' reunited. Instantly Raistlin looked out for the alchemist while he nibbled absently on a slab of bread that Tiomar had handed him. To his disappointment he noticed no new face. As if to confirm his observation, Naranja looked at him apologetically.

"I'm sorry." she whispered.

Raistlin shrugged.

"Why? " he answered dryly. "They already have somebody telling tales."

What else was to expect with Tasselhoff around? The gypsies made a thankful audience and of course the kender used the opportunity to tell his Sailor's yarn to everybody who wanted or didn't want to listen. Sometimes Raistlin could only shake his head hearing Tasselhoff's version of their adventures during the War of the Lance. Even if he didn't listen closely, Raistlin occasionally heard his own name being mentioned. He just didn't want to know what the kender was babbling about him.

Finally even the gypsies seemed to have heard enough tales for one night and somebody suggested a singing contest. Abrakus the gnome started. Whatever he sung about, it stayed a secret. At least to human ears that couldn't follow the fast and absolute a-rhythmical verses of gnomish poetry. When he was through, he got applause and laughter though. The gypsies were obviously trained to these kind of performances. Eventually the gnome took pity on his fellows and challenged Naranja. The bard responded with her lute and a hearty drinking song. When she had finished she designated somebody else and the game went on. Soon it was clear that this was not a real contest at all, every act was met with warmhearted appreciation. Still, the humorous songs were answered with most enthusiasm. The laughter grew loudest when somebody sang the popular tavern song 'Love me Kender' with the kender being the most exhilarated. Raistlin knew the song, he had never found it very comical but even he had to suppress a twitching lip at watching Nima's father singing the verses out to his wife, each exaggerated gesture ending in another acrobatic jump. Even after the song had ended laughter still flickered up again several times. Raistlin leaned back, subtly hiding behind Tiomar's strong back. As long as he didn't get any attention he felt relaxed to a certain point. This evening reminded him of their time in Port Balifor when the adventurers of the Lance had been in need of money and had performed their own show. It had been a light-hearted time.

Just that moment when Raistlin leaned back beginning to enjoy the warm summer night, he heard Tasselhoff's voice ringing over the camp calling his name.

"Speaking of 'love me kender', where is Nima? I thought I'd just seen her somewhere. She hasn't sung yet."

Raistlin hid himself even more behind Timoar. Full attention was the last thing he needed now. The cursed kender had a talent to annoy. It was part of Tasselhoff's very existence. Unfortunately his friends didn't reward Raistlin's efforts to stay unnoticed.

"She is here."

Naranja pointed at Raistlin forcing him to face the jugglers whose full attention he had by now.

"What about you singing 'We're kender, we're slender'?" somebody asked.

Now this had all of a sudden become another obstacle, another test on his identity. He couldn't tell the jugglers that he knew no kender songs, especially not the nonsensical ones. Within seconds, the archmage saw himself confronted with the demand of having to demean himself so far as to singing in front of the whole camp.

"One day... one day in a dark alley... I'll just kill that cursed kender. I'll kill him." he muttered under his breath. The whole issue had long ago gained the quality of another adventure. One that didn't challenge his skills in magic but forced him to improvise at damned deeds he had never done before. The expecting silence lengthened and Raistlin met several odd looks while he wondered whether pretending a sore throat due to a cold could work. It wasn't very inconspicuous when he 'got sick' on a regular basis, though. If he only knew a song, any song would be just great now. Frantically Raistlin searched his memory. There had to be a song. What did his brother and his comrades sing in the taverns? But having never paid attention to any of those activities Raistlin's mind went blank. The looks got odder with each passing second. Just at the moment when Raistlin seriously considered the sickness excuse, Nima's mother shook her head.

"That's what comes from studying spells and pells. Now she can't even sing anymore."

Spells, that was it. There was a song taught to all young mages who began their studies, reminding them of the three principles of magic. It had been sung occasionally by some of his fellow students. The concoction was known as "Threefold Moon", a blatant attempt to characterize the three gods of magic. Its message was simple and he had never liked it, but at least he remembered the melody. Derived from an old common folksong, the jugglers would probably like it.

"Well since my mother mentions magic, I will sing something about magic." Raistlin announced, his confidence restored at least to the outside. "I stumbled over this song during my meaningless studies..."

"Oh a magery song. That will be great!" Knoblar exclaimed clapping his hands. He was hushed by his father who, just like the others waited for Raistlin to begin. He cleared his throat advising Naranja to play the melody of the original ballad on her lute. Suddenly the idea of singing seemed not as appealing anymore as some moments ago. But now there was no way back. Somebody had to die for that mess later. And then, he began to sing.

_"Silver moon shining ever bright  
Shining moon, lighten up the night  
With your light on my way  
I won't fear the night and I welcome the day."_

The listeners were silent. Some people smiled at the reference to Solinari. Out of the corner of his eye, Raistlin watched several of them making a gesture of respect to Paladine. He went on.

_"Crimson moon, watching all our strife  
Circling Blood keeps us all alive  
Firelight keeps us warm  
I cherish the flames and I cherish your charm."_

Lunitari. The balanced principles of Neutrality were much harder to grasp then the simple moral code of "do this and don't do that" the good gods provided their followers with. Still, he saw appreciation in many faces. What would they say to the next verse...?

_"Hidden moon lead me through the dark  
Blackest moon I will bear your mark  
Blind my eyes, make me see  
Reveal all your secrets, reveal them to me."_

Now that verse had always been his favorite. Just as he had expected he observed light frowns and irritated looks now. No, these people would never understand the fascinating, alluring temptation the Dark Arts provided for the soul of a man who dedicated himself to seeking knowledge. That was the reason why he could sense another moon in the dark sky where others could not.

_"Threefold moon to the center rise  
Power comes for the highest price  
Look inside, ask your heart  
Now, whom of the masters shall teach you the art?"_

The inevitable moral lecture in the end. Though there was more truth to it than most people, even most mages, would have guessed. An old memory sprang up. Master Theobald's cellar came to his mind and the test he had have to pass there. 'I Magus'.

All three gods had at that time answered his desperate call, his prayer. They had appeared showing their differences more obvious then ever, still acting as one. He had at that time pledged himself to all three principles. They had spoken of the sacrifices he would have to make. The price for power. Being a child, just timidly beginning to discover the worlds of creation inside of him, he had not been able to understand what that had meant. But that had been long ago, he had learned his lessons, he had indeed.

Then the song was over. With support from the lute he had managed to give a halfway decent performance. And when he had ended he also got his share of applause. That had been a close one. Who would have ever thought that something as inane as this song would prove useful.

While Naranja was asking where he had that song from, and likewise claimed that he had looked like enjoying the singing, Raistlin spotted Tasselhoff hurrying towards them. Oh no, he wouldn't give the kender another chance to embarrass him in front of anybody. And if he ended up killing Tasselhoff, all his efforts would prove useless. He had better retreat strategically while he still could. The mage muttered a quick excuse of being tired and rushed to the wagons before the infamous kender could approach him.

What a strange and seriously irritating day. It had forced him to strain his social skills to their very limits. Even he was surprised of what he was capable of in times of urgent need, though.He suddenly did things neither he nor any body else who knew him would have expected him to achieve.

'There now, brother. What would you have said if you had seen me entertaining these people without even using magic? How would it have felt seeing the sickly little brother receiving their cheer and praise for once? Quite charismatic for the Sly One, known for being shy, hn?

He sighed softly. The jugglers made him act in utter contrast to his usual habits. Somehow he began to see it as a challenge, maybe all this was just another obstacle to overcome, another disguise to put on and another battle to win. Still, he couldn't remember many 'battles', mentally or physically, that had affected his emotions so much as the events of last few days. Could this solely be explained by the crucial change of environment or were other subtle powers working on his mind? However, this unfamiliar tendency of getting affected by the life in the camp added yet another worry to his overall trouble.

Hopefully the kender in his dreams would be less disturbing then the rest of her fellows. Although this hope was a weak one...

TBC

_**A/N**: The songs mentioned in this chapter all exist in one form or the other. "Love Me Kender" is a popular parody on, you guess it, "Love Me Tender" by Elvis Presley. Its hilarious and was originally published in the "Dragon Magazine" as many other famous D&D Song-Classics. (Who can still remember "Oh, Torm won't you give me a chainmail plus one...", eh?) And you can check it out on the internet, if you're interested in the lyrics. (Meanwhile there are a thousand different versions going around.) "We're kender, we're slender" has also been written but right now can only be found on my and Dally's harddisks. I still look for a way to work it into this story without overloading everything with songs. And for the song in this chapter: Threefold Moon is my own humble creation, although derived from a German Boyscout song. The original is called "Roter Mond" (transl.: "Red Moon"), in case anybody is interested._


	28. Behind the Scenes II Outtakes

Hello guys. This chapter is born of the urgent need to write something extremely stupid after I had to finish a particularly nasty assignment on economic theories. It is also a reaction to certain reviews I got over the course of time. (Glares at one special reader) It is also my surprise for all the faithful readers on this special day. Believe me, this is -if you imagine it- scary enough to be a

**Halloween Episode**.

Let me give you an honest **_Warning_: ** This has absolutely nothing to do with the story whatsoever, it is complete fluff and you need not read it in order to understand the main-story. This would normally be rated PG-I (Parental Guide - Insane) but unfortunately the database doesn't recognize this rating. Aiiiich! And if you are easily disturbed by outbursts of craziness, you should stop reading now and come back for the next update. By the way, this piece also includes several mean spoilers and in-jokes.

You still wanna read?

Really?

Uh... ok...

So proceed fearless reader into the realms of utter nonsense...

--

**How To Hook A Mage - The Making Of - Part 2**

A group of dark hooded figures in black robes had gathered in a circle inside a dark cavern. The cave was dark... I mean, it was really dark. As dark as as ever a cave could be that was the favorite meeting place of evil cultists. One of the shadowy figures stepped into the center of the circle and began to speak.

"Dear fellow cultists", the eerie figure began. "I am glad you all could attend our meeting and that you found your way around this very dark place. The night has come to do incredible, unspeakable deeds of evil."

The other figures nodded in approval.

"I called for this meeting because I want to share with you my most recent malicious scheme-"

"We take over the world?"

"No, that will come later. At first we have to kill the man I hate with a passion, we will root out this miserable spawn of evil, extinguish his flame of life and sweep him away from the planet, destroy this black-robed nuisance..."

The leader had clenched his fists in excitement. His audience exchanged confused looks.

"Tonight we will kill Raistlin Majere!" he announced, tears of joy running along his cheeks. The other cultists stared at each other in confusion. They were all silent for a minute or so.

"Ahm... Grandmaster Blackjack..." one man asked meekly. "How will we achieve that? I don't want to spoil the fun, but he is really powerful and his spell resistance is enormous."

The leader, a man named Blackjack, froze.

"Damn. You are right, fellow. Most magic would not work on him. Maybe we could use some weapons of the future on him. We could use phasers or the chainsaw of bloody dismemberment. No, no better not. If the dragonlords get their hands on them we're in trouble... No, we need something special. Something that overcomes his resistance. Hm.... maybe a curse. But which one? It must be an incredibly brutal curse."

Another particularly ugly cultist approached the leader.

"Master, I have cunning plan..."

The leader turned.

"And what could that be? Baldw- errr.... minion?"

The minion shrugged.

"I heard of an incredibly nasty curse that will surely give him a lot of trouble. It is brutal as you wanted and it is absolutely insane."

"You've got my interest, minion."

"Leader Blackjack. Let us raise our voices and chant praising hymns to the unspeakable deity of the ancient who is called Warn'R Bro' Thersss by his deformed followers."

"Yeah, you are right. This is unspeakable indeed. But however, now that you mention it, that seems a good plan, minion. We will invoke the mysterious deity of destruction and send Raistlin our warmest regards with a curse that is fed by the endless malice of our god... Muhaha... I like the idea... Did anybody bring a chicken for the obligatory bloody sacrifice?"

"I only have these frozen chickenwings, master. I actually wanted to prepare them in the microwave later this evening-"

"Good, minion. These will do..."

And soon after an eldritch chanting began... And later, they served tea and cookies...

_...meanwhile..._

In the morning on the set of Wishful Thinking everybody was busy. Petalwing, the director, had already her first breakdown of the day, since the kender actors had driven her mad again with their repeated suggestion that the show should include a dragon. Petalwing had tried to explain that they had not enough money to employ a dragon. The irritable beholders were expensive enough. The kender had not understood of course.

Dally, the assistant director ran around handing everybody papers which listed the scenes they planned to shoot today. Suddenly, a loud, eerie wail was heard all over the set.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHRG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

The gully darves in the kitchen froze over the sandwiches they were preparing, even the kender ceased fuzzing over the dragon issue and Dally let all her papers slide to the ground while she put her fingers in the ears. The second daily ritual had begun. The director tried to persuade the star of the show to leave his caravan and participate in the shooting. It was everyday the same trouble. Though this time he seemed to be more upset then usual. The crew gathered around a luxury caravan with the letters "R.M." painted at the door. They could hear two voices from the inside.

"THIS IS AN INCREDIBLE IMPERTINENCE! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO WORK WITH THESE STUPID THINGS ATTACKING ME!"

"No," they heard the director speaking calmly while the star ended up coughing like hell.

"Nobody is attacking you, Raistlin."

"FOR YOU ITS ARCHMAGE MAJERE!"

Another cough. Petalwing sighed.

"Don't you think you are a tiny little bit paranoid?"

"Paranoid? Me?"

Outside, everybody let out a deep breath. He spoke in a normal manner again. At least.

"These stupid things keep on falling on my head as soon as I leave the caravan. I won't come out until the problem is solved."

Everybody in front of the door groaned in frustration. In the meantime Nima had come around and had joined the rest of the crew.

"What is it today?" she said casually. "Why won't he come out this time? Does my Co-Star haggle for another raise of his fee again?"

"I HEARD THAT!"

The door of the Caravan was opened revealing a hectic Petalwing. She looked scathingly at Nima.

"You know you mustn't say this!" the director whispered desperately. "Lets just pretend he was the only star of the show and everything is fine. Never say that Co-word when he is in hearing distance-"

"I HEARD THAT TOO!"

He coughed. Petalwing rolled her eyes and vanished into the Caravan again banging the door.

The rest of the discussion went on in muffled tones so the people outside couldn't follow the discussion anymore.

Only Caramon had not joined the rest so far. He sat in the director's camping chair and had read a book. Now he closed it and went over.

"What do you think how much time she will need today to persuade him? Do you think it will be enough time for another coffee break?"  
Naranja, the young actress, peered at the book's cover.

"Oh, I didn't know you read Alighieri in your sparetime, Caramon."

The man raised his broad shoulders.

"The subtle humor stimulates me intellectually." he explained. "After occupying myself with Machiavelli, I needed something more philosophical."

Raf, the gully dwarf from the Inn of Last Home, joined him.

"Did you already read Adorno's 'Dialectic of Enlightenment'? A highly interesting publication."

"No," Caramon said. "But maybe I can borrow it from you.

"Gladly." answered the gully dwarf. "I actually was fascinated by the discourse on the whole concept of reason..."

They both went off in search for a newspaper.

Naranja looked at Nima.

"They always impress me, they are so different when they act in the series."

Nima shrugged.

"Speaking of acting different, did you already see Dalamar today?" the kender asked innocently. Her friend frowned.

"That arrogant bastard? Thinks he is cool just because he has pointed ears and so. I heard he gets tons of fan-letters and marriage-proposals each day. He is such a vain jerk!"

"Well, if you think him so stupid then why the hell did you accept a role where he is your love interest?"

Dally blurted out. The assistant director had a crush on their elven star and it was obvious for anybody who was longer on the set then 20 minutes.

"Because I'm a professional." Naranja replied sullenly. "Later I can always say that I was young and I needed the money."

Dally growled. In the very same moment, Petalwing came out of the wagon with an expression of utter distress.

"Ok, people." she announced. "It seems that for some reason, pianos attack our star constantly. I want you all to go and clean the set of every piano you can find."

"PIANOS?!!" cried Dally. Like the rest she was not sure if she had heard correctly. "We don't have a piano in the show. That would be anachronistic."

Petalwing sighed.

"I know. But Raistlin claims that this morning already three pianos fell from the sky aiming at him. He could only prevent being squashed under the objects by his high initiative rating and his battle trained reflexes. And we need our star alive. So let's go and look for UFPs."

"UFPs?"

"Unidentified Falling Pianos."

"Uh...ok..."

The crew followed their director's order and went off in search for the musical attackers. To their great surprise they found more then twenty pianos on the set. Nobody knew where these had come from.

Meanwhile, the director suffered her second breakdown of the day. She was helped by Dally who stuffed the director full with chocolate until Petalwing was in urgent danger of throwing up. The director had gained at least two kilos in the process but the little endorphines did their work.

"Raistlin, you can come out!" both Dally and Petalwing cried after they had crushed all the Pianos. The remaining pieces had been piled up on the edge of the set. They would make a great pile of wood for another gypsy-campfire scene. The only one who had complained over the destruction of the instruments was Naranja.  
"That was a Steinway..." they heard her sob.

The caravan door opened and Raistlin peered out of the wagon.

"Is it safe?"

"YES!" the crew cried in unison.

"No pianos?"

"NO!"

He left the caravan. Nothing happened. No piano appeared in the sky.

Finally, they started with the first scene of the day.

The scene was from another dream sequence and included Raistlin and Nima. Both took their stances. Knoblar, the gnome, appeared in front of the camera, wielding a huge clapperboard. "Soulwrenching DR-6- the first" he cried and hurried out of the way.

Nima recited her first line.

"Did you ever tell him you were sorry?"

Raistlin smirked as the script commanded.

"No. And besides I'd very likely do it again. He knows what I'm capable of. So why should I tell a lie?"

Nima frowned in the appropriate manner, both actors shared an estimating stare and held it for considerable time, until Petalwing decided that this had been enough drama and motioned them to go on. It was Nima's turn again.

"Because it would bring peace to his heart? He loves-"

Somebody shouted from the set.

"Watch out! The anvil!!!"

"BONK!"

"CUUUUT!"

Too late the actors realized what had happened. A giant anvil had appeared above them and had fallen straight on Raistlin who lay now buried unter a huge chunk of metal.

He crew gasped. Petalwing sobbed.

"Raistlin?" Nima asked hesitantly. "Are you ok?"

"Take that cursed thing off me, you imbeciles." came the muffled reply.

Everybody sighed in relief.

Dally called for the make-up artist while the rest of the cast did their best to shove the anvil from the set.

Behind the fence that separated the film-crew from the outside world, two men wearing black watched the scene. They had been pleased to see the anvil falling but their expressions turned to distress when they realized that Raistlin was still alive.

"How can he survive three pianos and an anvil? He can't be immune to our curse. He should be dead by now. Dead dead dead! Damn!"

"Ahm... Grandmaster Blackjack..."

"Yes, minion?"

"Didn't you know? The Curse of the mighty Warn'R Bro' Thersss can not kill. It is brutal and it hurts awfully but the things won't kill. I must have forgotten to tell you..." he trailed off.

"Whaaaaat?!?"

Blackjacks scornful face was enough to make the faithful minion run for his life. And if they haven't stopped running yet, they are probably running still. Master and minion. But at least they get a lot of sportive exercise, don't they?

Meanwhile on the set, Raistlin had been freed and refused to take any further shoots today, the director had her third breakdown, the assistant director started a catfight with Naranja, Dalamar was reading his fanmail, Caramon and Raf discussed philosophical matters and the story was still a tape worm...

And if they have not gone crazy yet, you may very well look for an update soon...

-------------------------

**A/N**: This has been written without a Beta-reader. Gross orthographic and grammatical errors are to blame solely on me. Now I look for cover and hope my beta-reader doesn't kill me for what I did to her in this episode.

To Guan: I just saw that you review a lot so you must be reviewing nearly everything you read. I think its great that you do that because so the authors know that at least one person read their fics even if the review is only one sentence or so. At least know how happy I am every time I get a review. So thanks again.

To Hilary: Hi there. I sent you the email a second time. If you didn't get it, than please go and repair your internet explorer or check on your provider. Please. ;) And no, I wouldn't make Raistlin sing "we're kender, we're slender". Even my vivid imagination doesn't stretch this far... LOL


	29. Seduction and the Virtue of HouseKeeping...

A/N: **Guan**: Raistlin-torture seems to be the favorite hobby of the female fans. I guess I'm not an exception to the rule. ;)

**Hilary**: Ok, I'll wait until you get your computer fixed. Just tell me when it works again. I hope that will be soon. Author's note based communication is not the idea substitute for mails ;)

**Pmacca**: Thanks fort he kind review. :) By the way, I sent you a message regarding your suggestion but it came back to me saying you quota was full...

**Dally**: No, no Dalamar is not concieted. I think I even gave him some altruistic qualities in this chapter and the next... ;)

**Humble Master**: I promise that they will meet. The scene is already planned. But some interesting things will and need to happen beforehand. grin

Thank you all for reviewing. (Now enjoy two more chapters of the kender and her personal dark elf before we continue with our favorite black robe.)

--

_Today's episode is brought to you by Reorx' Finest. The ale even gods can't resist._

**Chapter 29 - Seduction and the Virtue of House-Keeping Magic**

One week after Dalamar and his master had left Palanthas they stopped at the Inn of the Laughing Unicorn. The Laughing Unicorn lay near to a crossing of two main trade routes and was therefore a popular place to stay among traders of all kinds, vagabonds and adventurers. Though frequented by dubious folk, the Laughing Unicorn had accommodated rich tradesmen and noble travellers plus their guards. Likewise it had seen numerous young swordsmen and fortune seekers of all professions resting within its walls, dreaming of a glorious heroic future, while shadowy hooded figures dealt in clandestine business in the darkest corners of the huge common room.

Maybe it was due to this spicy mixture of nobility, daydreaming, unsolved mysteries, and a slight odor of danger that the Laughing Unicorn had a certain reputation even far beyond the borderlines of the local area.

This night the common room was filled with customers, when the door opened and a hooded black-robed man entered the tavern. Though most of his face was hidden in the shadow of his hood his graceful movements revealed the newcomer's elven heritage to the experienced eye. The elf was followed by another black-robed man, with golden skin and and an even more disturbing golden gaze. The latter watched the room open mouthed, plain excitement written on his face. However, the elf didn't bother to give him time to look around in the room and satisfy his obvious curiosity, as he swiftly approached a free table in a corner and sat down, motioning for his comrade to follow him. Both visitors ignored distrustful glances and hushed whispers following them when they passed and, having seated themselves comfortably, ordered a room for the night and wine and a meal.

Tonight the Laughing Unicorn was very busy; during the summer months many travellers journeyed along this route. It was still an early evening and most of the customers enjoyed the amenities of the common room. That included a talented young bard, lively wenches and best of all: a delicious creamy ale from the mountain dwarfs. These attractions were enough to direct the general attention away from the two dark mages in the corner. It worked. Almost.

Freya, a handsome lady of easy virtue, had set her eyes on them. And likewise her hopes for a profitable bargain. She had earned her living in taverns since she had been old enough to run away from her drunkard of a father and she usually needed only one look to determine a man's state of income. These two definitely looked wealthy; the fabric of their robes fell in smooth curves like only expensive velvet could. And when one of them had paid the barmaid, Freya had gotten a glimpse of a round piece of finest steel. Yes, these two men looked as though they were able to buy themselves pleasant company. Adding to that, they had a certain aura of mystery around them. On the one hand it was probably due to their obvious demand for solitude -they had chosen the most remote and least central table in the room, thereby avoiding communication with fellow travellers- and on the other hand they both looked fascinating. The elf, or maybe half-elf, had not discarded his hood yet, very likely he didn't want too many strangers to recognize his nature. Freya could only guess how the elf looked like but probably strikingly beautiful, since elves always looked beautiful. Consorting with travelers from all corners of Ansalon, Freya had met diverse elves, she had even bedded a half-blood once. They all moved in a manner only elves could, Freya didn't need to see a face or pointed ears to determine that.

The elf's comrade could only be described as utterly exotic. Though being human in features and movement, his hair had the same color as the rooftops during a northern winter, his skin shimmered like finest gold and his amber eyes seemed to be not human at all. Apart from that his features were almost appealing. His nose and chin were well-formed, it was only his way too frail stature that diminished is attractiveness. But he definitely had a catching smile. Just now he was telling the old joke about the Solamnic Knight and the Blackmage to his quiet companion. His amber-eyes sparkled in excitement and his lively smile was so cheerful it was nearly impossible not to join in his chuckle as he told the witty final line of the joke. The elf however managed to keep solemn and reserved. He answered something but spoke slightly too soft for Freya to grasp it. The two blackrobe's conversation ended with the golden man raising and shaking his head at the other man.

"No, no, Dalamar, I will just get us a portion of that tasty dwarven beer and more of that stew. I'm still hungry and besides I can't sit still for too long anyway. I'll go."

Then the elf rose, too. Another short discussion followed which they ended by exchanging a short nod. The elf said something that sounded like:  
"Just stay out of trouble, Shalafi."

They both left the table, the human strolling into the direction of the counter, the elf leaving the room. Freya smiled, that was her chance. Most of the customers sat or stood next to the counter, thus being nearest to the precious barrels of ale. The black robed man had to work himself through the crowd until he reached the counter and yelled his request for another portion of ale and stew at the inkeeper. Somehow, the inkeeper managed to understand his customer through the overall noise of drunken and not so drunken voices surrounding them. While the man waited for his meal to get prepared to take it back to his table, Freya positioned herself on a promising spot that would allow her to bump into him 'accidentally' on his way back. She watched him as closely as possible. She had to get him before one of the other wenches made up her mind to go for him. Competition was hard these days and the big spenders were rare. She wasn't sure, moving bodies occasionally thwarted her view on her prey, but hadn't his hand just glided into the pouch of the patron next to him? No, probably not, a man of his standing wouldn't make a living of pick-pocketing. She surely was mistaken.

The moment Nima turned around, balancing a jar with ale and a bowl with stew, a perfumed female body brushed against her chest. The strange women reacted quickly, steadying Nima's hand and preventing her from accidentally spilling the ale all over herself. The women, a handsome brunette in a red dress that showed her white shoulders and hinted nicely on her female curves, apologized politely. She smiled, tossing her hair and for some reason Nima didn't understand, she batted her eyes at Nima. Maybe the women had gotten something into her eyes. Before Nima could ask, her new acquaintance took the beer out of her hand offering to bring it to her and Dalamar's table. Dalamar had left complaining about the thick, smoky air in the room and had gone for a little walk. Maybe the elf also wanted to have some time for himself, Nima understood that. And by now she also had made a new friend. It wouldn't get boring.

They both settled down at the table. Nima went at the stew and invited the female to help herself to the beer. With the kender being busy eating, -it was like Nima's new body burned every piece of food before it even reached the stomach- the wench got a chance to introduce herself and ask some hinting questions. She was slightly irritated, though. So far the man had shown no obvious reaction towards her female charms. He treated her politely, and was very friendly, but his gaze missed the inviting, longing component that always accompanied the glances of a young man who was attracted to a woman. They chattered a bit over the weather, the growing of the crops and the conditions of the roads, when Freya realized that even subtle hints slipped into the conversation were not noticed at all. Maybe she had to get more blatant, since he seemed to be interested, nevertheless. If he wasn't, he would have surely sent her away by now. However, he followed her stories with a focused gaze, feeding Freya's hopes again. After a while though, she noticed that he didn't keep his eyes on her for long. From time to time he just looked shortly into another direction as if he tried to avoid watching her too closely. Strange...

Eventually, Freya decided to become more direct, maybe that would help. She leaned over the table towards him, thus forcing him to inhale her perfume. With perfect lascivious slowness she took one of his hands into her own pressing it softly against her cheek.

"You know what I always wanted to know?"

Confused he shook his head.

"No. What?" He finally asked.

She moved closer, granting him a generous view on her well-formed bosom.

"I always wanted to know..."

She leaned forward even more, he did the same, anticipating her question.

"Yes?"

Their lips nearly touched, this was a crucial moment. Now she would know if he was attracted or not. Her breath brushed over his lips when she finally spoke again.

"I always wanted to know... what wizards wear below their robes."

Freya pouted coyly, long training caused her mimic to express utter innocence. This should give him the rest, no man had ever resisted the innocent-child-tour. This very moment he should close his eyes and press his mouth on hers. That was what should happen. Only that it didn't happen. Instead he leaned back, thinking.

"Well... I think that depends on the season. I mostly wear some kind of trousers underneath. That's more practical when you are travelling." he finally answered.

Freya leaned likewise back, terribly disappointed. He was a hard nut to crack, and he confused her. What did he have in his veins? Ice? No way, his touch was hot against her skin. Or did he just make fun of her? No, he looked at her not in the least amused or ironic, just curious and if you could say so, serious. He couldn't be that naive, could he? He just had to have understood her point. Well, fine, one last try. Now she wanted to know.

"Lets stop playing games." the frustrated wench finally demanded. "I don't have time all night, do you want me to keep your bed warm or not?"

Nima was surprised at this new turn of their conversation, but that sounded interesting. Keeping a bed warm. How would you do this? Maybe Freya was talking about... yes, she must be talking about... House-keeping-magic! Maybe she could do the same with blankets what Dalamar did with water. Yes, surely that was it. Oh what a great idea! Nima was eager to learn more about house-keeping-magic. If this girl knew any spell, why not?

To Freya's great surprise the golden mage nodded enthusiastically. She was utterly astonished, not having expected this kind of reaction anymore.

"Yes, please show me how to keep a bed warm. I would love to see that!"

"Only see?"

"Well," he got even more excited now. "If you could show me one or two tricks I wouldn't mind."

Freya smiled. Of course I can show you some tricks, handsome." Freya knew her expression probably just matched that of a cat over a bowl of cream. "I know the Palanthian Fingermove. I bet you'll die for this one. Everybody does."

He jumped up grabbing his and his comrade's baggage.

"Never heard of that, but I wanna learn. Lets go." he said, already marching towards the sleeping quarters. She followed in his trail shaking her head. At first he didn't seem interested at all, now he couldn't wait another minute. What was wrong with this man? He was just plainly weird. This was probably why other working girls had warned her to take mages or priests as customers. They had strange tastes. And this one acted strangely as well. And, most disturbingly, Freya still missed the intoxicating vibrations of lust and desire between them.

When they finally entered his room, Freya noticed two beds. On request he explained that all single beds had been already taken, he and the elf had to share a room this night. Freya didn't like the idea too much.

"Hm, I don't know how you two keep it, but I don't serve two customers at the same time, if you get my point."

He just waved away her objection and sat down on the bed expectantly.

"You needn't to show Dalamar." he stated. "I'm sure he already knows all the tricks."

She snickered.

"I bet he does."

"Dalamar is very good at these things." he stated convinced as if speaking of experience.

Freya raised an eyebrow. She hadn't expected the elf and his human companion actually to be _that_ close. They hadn't looked like a couple at all, and besides she was here now, so he wouldn't have a taste in men, or coud he? Well, as long as he paid, she was not here to ask any questions.

"If your friend wants to watch, the tarif goes up, you know?" she explained. "Usually I don't like to have an audience."

"Oh you needn't to worry about that. He went for a walk and I'm sure we have enough time to show me everything you have in mind. But I can understand. You surely need to concentrate..."

"Concentrate? Well... I guess it also involves concentration... yes... You do ask strange questions, mage of mine."

"You also asked me a lot of strange stuff!" he defended himself.

Freya was eager to get down to business.

"How about you laying down that I can take your boots off." she suggested. He shrugged and obeyed.  
"If you say so."

She got rid of his boots and then she blew out the candle on the night stand. She would get the rest off his body very well in the dark.

"Why did you turn out the light? Then I won't be able to watch what you do."

She chuckled amused.

"Don't worry. We'll find other means of teaching."

"Oh." 

--

_Ladies and Gentlemen, this episode was brought to you by Reorx' Finest, the official sponsor of this story. The ale even gods can't resist. Exclusively available for you at the Laughing Unicorn and every good Inn on Krynn._

_(Legal disclaimer: We have to inform you that our dwarven beer is exceptionally strong. If you are no dwarf and especially if you're under age, which includes everybody under 60, we recommend you only to buy and consume our product under the supervision of the older people in your environment who think they are responsible for you. We would say 'your parents' but according to our statistics, the percentage of orphans is extraordinarily high amongst the ranks of heroes and heroines in Krynn. In case you're a kender, we don't recommend the consummation of dwarven beer at all. If you' re of age and you let a kender consume our product we take no responsibility for the damage done to your property.) _

_We wish you a good time. Enjoy Reorx' Finest. The ale even gods can't resist._

_The management._


	30. A Flamboyant Threesome

**A/N**: Thank you all for reviewing

**Ahn-Li**: I I bet the real Raistlin will be awfully sorry he missed all the "fun" of this chapter... (See title.) ROFL

**Hilary**: Yep- Yep. Here ist comes. I know the cliffhanger was a bit mean, but I hope you enjoy the solution...

**Pmacca**: Murphy's law works well in this story. What can go wrong, will go wrong...

**Blackjack**: Got the wrong minion, eh? How did Echo's Children put it? "Oops oops, extravagant curses..."

**Guan**: Glad you liked it. Something like that just had to happen...

**Dally**: ... and with Dalamar interfering the misunderstanding rises to new heights of confusion... And thanks again for the title of this chapter. (big grin)

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**Chapter 30 - A Flamboyant Threesome**

The room was dark and quiet. Nima lay on the bed, eagerly waiting for the woman to start with the lesson. The lack of movement relaxed her. She felt tired, having been on horseback all day. Her still too untrained muscles ached and the was overwhelmed by tiredness. Sleep would have been welcome now, only the prospect of learning magic kept her awake. She heard a rustle of sheet as if somebody would discard cloth. The Freya-lady surely took her time preparing her trick. Dalamar normally didn't make such a long fuss over it beforehand when he cast a spell. She yawned. The lady better begun soon or she would loose her battle with sleep.

"Boy, I am tired." Nima said, addressing no one in particular. "I shouldn't have laid down, now I just want to sleep."

Nima turned onto her stomach and likewise into her usual sleeping position. Meanwhile the lady slipped under the blankets next to her. Nima yawned again. Maybe the Lady hatten gotten tired too? Probably. They should have at least kept the candle burning.

"Oh you are tired, too?" the kender asked. "You wanna sleep over here? Well, ok... I don't mind, although it can get a little bit intimate, you can just have that part of the bed, you can show me the trick tomorrow and luckily I usually don't move much in sleep and- Aiiiiiich!"

Nima's speech ended abruptly in a surprised squeak, her eyes suddenly wide open, when a warm body curled around her.

"Intimacy is just what we're looking for, right?" the Freya-Lady purred.

Nima was utterly confused. What a strange kind of a teaching method. Was that really about magic?

Instantly the women started massaging Nima's tensed shoulders. Teaching or not teaching, this was definitely pleasing. Especially since her muscles in the back had been sore for days. Nima relaxed under the treatment and even gave little sounds of appreciation, thus unintentionally encouraging the female behind her to turn things on.

Suddenly Nima felt the skilled hands not only on her back but in places were there shouldn't be any hands. And right now, these hands had begun to strip her. Soft kisses were planted on her neck. That definitely went too far. Somehow the lady had managed to open all the right buttons, and with one quick move the velvet robe was yanked from Nima's shoulders.

"Hey, Lady!" she cried astonished and struggled against Freya's grip on her hips, trying to get away from the clinging woman.

"Let me go!" Nima yelled and, in her haste, fell down on the floor with a loud thud. In the meantime Nima's eyes had adjusted to the darkness and she could see the Lady's silhouette kneeling on the bed, probably looking down on her.

"Why are you suddenly so shy?" Freya asked. "I thought you couldn't wait to learn the Palanthian Fingermove."

"Not when the Palanthian Fingermove involves my tushy!!!"

Nima crawled back against the nearest wall trying to get the damned robe back on, fumbling and fighting with a sleeve in the darkness. Meanwhile Freya jumped from the bed, approaching her.

"I surely know some good tricks to cure your shyness."

The Lady chuckled somewhat amused setting Nima's senses on alert, finally. Something had gone terribly wrong. When the young kender felt the Lady's weight on her lap and slender fingers that stroked her neck possessively, she did the first thing that came into her panicked mind.

"DALAMAR! HELP!"

Instantly the door flew open.

For Dalamar the walk had not been half as relaxing as he had hoped. Though the air was cooling down from the heat of the day and thus gaining a more tolerable quality, he couldn't find the peace of mind he had hoped for. Somehow he had the feeling that his master wouldn't keep out of trouble for long. Besides, he expected some observer nearby. Up to now the mysterious force that sent the relentless eyes had restricted itself only to watching them from a safe distance, hiding mostly. Still the situation could change every moment.

Dalamar knew, if he went back now into the tavern room, thus having the dubious pleasure of practically bathing in the smell of human sweat, alcohol and roasted meat, he would likely develop a nasty little headache. However, that was more preferable than the headache his 'venerable' Shalafi would give him, when left alone for too long. Each day he felt less like an apprentice or colleague but more like an elder brother keeping watch on a little urchin. Dalamar allowed himself one soft sigh as he entered the noisy common room and watched out for Raistlin.

His Shalafi was nowhere to be seen. Having expected something similar, Dalamar guessed that he was probably not a second to soon. Who knew into what trouble Raistlin had gotten himself now? Maybe he could still prevent the worst from happening. Just a second later, Dalamar's concern gained the quality of utter paranoia when he saw their table deserted, but the staff of Magius still leaning against the wall. Something must have happened. No matter how insane Raistlin was, Dalamar was perfectly sure he would never -Never!- forget his staff. Even if a gap to the Abyss opened right under him, Raistlin would not leave the staff of Magius! Fortunately no one seemed to have made an attempt to steal it, or the result would have left a scene of destruction. He hastened to the staff, taking it. But where had Raistlin gone? Somebody must have forced him to leave the staff of Magius, due to a dominating spell or other means of intimidation. Whatever had happened had to have witnesses. And indeed, there were witnesses. It was only a matter of seconds to learn that Raistlin had left with a local wench. An unbelievable tale. What business did Raistlin suddenly have with loose women? With a bad feeling Dalamar all but ran towards their sleeping quarters. If this was not a romantic intermezzo, it could only be a trap, an ambush. What if the silent observers had just turned into attackers, putting on a disguise as harmless girls, luring or forcing Raistlin into following them to take advantage of his current helpless state? Raistlin had many enemies. And among them some quite powerful individuals. He berated himself, he should have anticipated something like that to happen sooner or later, why had he left his Shalafi alone and unguarded? How could he even have assumed that the common room would be a safe place?

The moment the elf had reached the sleeping quarters, he heard a loud knock coming from their room, as if a body had just fallen on the floor. So the battle had already begun. Blast! Dalamar was only few metres away from the door, when he heard Raistlin crying out his name in utter panic. Expecting everything from an ogre to a death knight, Dalamar swung the door open, the spell of acid arrow already on his lips.

The chamber was dark and in the flickering torchlight from the floor, all that Dalamar could see were two figures in a corner, caught in some kind of struggle. Raistlin's white hair shimmered slightly in the darkness, a shade of silver amongst the shadows. The attacker sat on his Shalafi's knees, maybe just about to strangle him. Whomever was attacking, Dalamar decided it was best to overpower the enemy first and ask questions later. He began to chant the syllables of the spell and felt the beguiling force of magic inside him, focusing, ready to unleash lethal power. One hand slid into the pouch with rhubarb leaf and adder's stomach in a reflex. Dalamar hadn't even to think about it. He had done this a hundred times before. Only, this time the pouch wasn't there. Shocked, he noticed it was missing. The magical words had been chanted but Dalamar couldn't set the spell in motion. Forced to change his strategy and begin another spell, the elf realized that the opponents in the corner had meanwhile stopped fighting. They both stood still, either dumbfounded by his sudden appearance or by the failed incantation. Dalamar tried to use their confusion to his advantage and prepared a magic missile, a spell that luckily didn't demand a material component. Just a short sentence in the sacred language of magic and shining arrows materialized on the tip of his fingers. While the elf cast the spell, Raistlin's attacker jumped up, backing to the wall.

"Hey, what kind of perverts are you?" cried a shocked female voice. "I said I don't serve two!"

The woman was followed by his Shalafi who came to his feet only to throw himself into the line of fire.

"Dalamar! NO!" he shouted, gesturing at the elf to stop his spell exactly at the same time as Dalamar's lips concluded the last syllable. In this moment the elf realized that the missiles would hit his Shalafi instead of the woman. Regarding his master's frail constitution, with no shield to protect him, they would leave him severely wounded at best. Desperately, the elf tried to keep control of the magic even after it had been hammered into form and had been given a target. It took an immense amount of mental strength to keep the thin link between caster and spell. Dalamar knew, he couldn't prevent the spell from going off any longer and in less then a second made a decision. There was only one way left to counter the spell at this point - taking back the magic through himself. Then the spell went off, gone out of control.

One glowing arrow still shot forth into the advised direction. It hit Raistlin in an instant and forced him to tumble forward onto the bed. The other arrows remained at Dalamar's hand a little longer as if they tried to slip back into his fingertips. Suddenly they all turned, crashing into the elf's arm and chest. With a gasp of pain the elven mage stumbled backwards into the nearest wall.

It was silent in the room after that. Dalamar staggered clutching his chest and panting slightly. His master rose and turned towards him. Blood dripped along his right arm.

"Wow! What happened?" he cried out.

The female on the wall winced. Only now Dalamar noticed that she was practically naked.

"You are crazy!" she stuttered, staring at them both. "Absolutely insane!" her voice grew louder. "I'll cry for help, I'll cry for-"

She was cut off when Dalamar whispered something and made a gesture, although one hand was still pressed against his chest. He smiled darkly when the effect of his spell sat in, causing the woman to scream. Since he stood still near the door, he closed it by giving it a light, casual kick. His Shalafi and the girl watched in awe and horror as shadowy tentacles suddenly emerged from the wall behind her, catching the female's limbs and torso, tying her towards it. Of course she screamed in terror.

"Shut your cursed mouth!"

Dalamar hadn't very spoken loudly, still the menacing sound of his voice seemed to echo through the room, cutting through the women's blur of panic and frightening her enough to fall silent. Raistlin wanted to say something but was also cut off by his apprentice.

"And don't YOU speak either!"

It worked. His Shalafi sat back on the bed, subdued.

The door was closed now, still their fight had been more than just audible. Dalamar listened at the floor outside. He only hoped that the evening was early and the dwarven ale strong enough to keep the other customers in the common room. It seemed they were lucky. No footsteps could be heard. No hero wannabe tried a dashing rescue.

With a smirk the elf turned around to his company. The smirk was somewhat forced as the pain from the wounds had not lessened, and he had to support himself on the wall to prevent himself from sinking down on his knees. Now it was definitely time to get some answers to his questions. In the meantime his Shalafi had finally done something useful by lighting a candle on the nightstand.

Finally Dalamar could take a closer look on their visitor. A young human woman, barely older than twenty. She wore a red, transparent nightgown that showed more then it actually hid. Now she shivered in the hold of his shadow servants, feeling uneasy and terrified. However, during the moments of waiting she seemed to have gained some confidence.

"Who are you?" Dalamar coldly began his interrogation.

"Freya." she answered with a hint of defiance. "And I will still cry for help unless you dont have at least a hundred good reasons of finest rounded steel to convince me otherwise."

He had to give her the credit for being quite tough, trying to negotiate while being tied to a wall by a spell of blackest magic. It didn't take him long to get the whole story out of her. She didn't have the guts to lie to him now that he had demonstrated his power. When asked, Raistlin confirmed her version. All in all it just seemed to be an incredibly idiotic misunderstanding. There was no reason to keep the wench here. For a second he pondered killing her. He couldn't allow her running around and telling tales about the two terrorizing mages to every trader in reach. Anyway, he didn't feel much enthusiasm at the idea of having to get rid of a corpse tonight either. He concluded that murder would complicate the situation more than necessary. So Dalamar proposed a deal.

"20 coins and you will forget that you have met us."

"50 and I don't tell anybody of the spellcasting."

Well, she was persistant and daring. Shaking from fear but stubborn enough to try to profit. She would probably have been very formidable had she been able to rise to another class.

"30 because I'm impressed by your impudence and no word to anybody."

He couldn't believe that he was really doing this, trying to bribe a whore. His Shalafi had followed their dialogue open mouthed watching them both. The wench gave in. Dalamar reached for a pouch of coins, took some out and threw the rest at her, at the same time letting down the spell that held her.

She caught the money and left the room in a hurry without looking back, stopping only once to grab her dress. Freya silently swore to herself never to hit on a mage again.

Finally the two mages were alone. Dalamar closed the door behind the girl and staggered to his baggage to go through his belongings. He found three little bottles. Resigned, he handed Raistlin one and commanded him to drink, likewise swallowing the content of the other two himself. Strong healing magic rushed through his body instantly, closing the lesions and restoring his strength. Raistlin's cut on the shoulder also stopped bleeding.

"That cost me three of my best healing potions for nothing." Dalamar muttered, not hiding his annoyance. "You owe me something for that one, Shalafi, you owe me something big."

Raistlin nodded.

"I guess I do. I'm sorry, I didn't want it to come out like this. Now, I don't think the Freya-Lady meant something bad, I just don't understand why she changed her plans and didn't show me the house-keeping-magic. I'm confused."

It took some seconds until Dalamar proceeded the meaning behind his Shalafi's words.

"What exactly were you two talking about during my absence?"

Raistlin told the tale. In reaction his elven apprentice sank down on his bed, burying his face in his hands. This was absolutely unbelievable. How oblivious could somebody be? For a second, Dalamar felt the urge to cry. Why did things like this always happen to him? Why?

"Shalafi." he tried to say as calm as he could. "When she was talking of 'keeping your bed warm' she didn't speak of a spell but of sex. Do you get it, Shalafi? MATING! Not MAGIC!"

"Oh." Raistlin blushed. "I didn't know that. Sorry."

Dalamar discarded his boots and upper layers of clothing and slipped under his blanket. He still needed to investigate some things. Where his components had gone for instance. But now he was tired, the healing potion, no matter how potent, couldn't fully cure the exhaustion from what his body had gone through in the last twenty minutes. Quickly, he spoke an alarm spell he usually secured their camp with and lied down. He could have killed Raistlin in that moment.

"What ever you say, master." he mumbled instead. "What ever you say." and after a while: "And put that damn candle out. It's late!"

TBC


	31. Through the Grapevine And A Prophesy

A/N: This was originally supposed to be the anniversary chapter Number 30. But then I decided to slip the Halloween-episode in and so my beautiful count was messed up. However, I want to thank all of you for your support and approval. When I started writing this story I hadn't expected to get this far as to even write a chapter 30. It were your kind reactions and comments that kept me from getting distracted and everything. Though originally planned as a more or less simple get-together romance, 'Wishful Thinking' has somehow become a hydra. Whenever I want to go on with the plot another funny idea/absolutely necessary side-plot pops out of nowhere and into my text. Some ideas are too much fun to resist and I have begun to see this more like a series of episodes then a stringent story. Nevertheless, to celebrate the 30 chapters, the chapter is a little bit longer than usual and the main plot sets in again. Yay! (It is was well hidden the last chapters but it is still there. ;) )

And as long as you are still with me, Petalwing will not be afraid to fight the hydra and get this tale written!

Thanks to everybody from a very happy FFwriter.

-wink-

-Petalwing-

**Chapter 31 - Through the grapevine and a prophesy**

The next morning, when Dalamar and his Shalafi left the room and went to the common room for breakfast, (since the accident Raistlin had insisted on regular meals and often needed two portions to fulfill his sheer insatiable appetite) Dalamar discovered new aspects of the devastating concept of possible humiliation through otherwise perfectly harmless humans. At first he noticed a sweeping housemaid giving them sidelong glances. Though she kept her eyes on the floor most of the time, he caught her staring at Raistlin and him a few times before she finished her work and left. It was still very early in the morning, too early for the majority of customers. At this time of the day, business had not really begun yet, which left only the two mages and a few barmaids and servants in the common room. Dalamar preferred it just like that. Maybe he had lived too long with Raistlin in their self-imposed solitude but he didn't care for the companionship of strangers at all. Here, in the dusky corner with only the few tavernmaids around, he could relax a little and even dared to discard his hood, revealing his elven nature.

That likely explained the curious glances from the bardmaids as they went over to bring them wine and a light meal. Probably they hadn't seen many elves in their lives. Maybe they had even heard rumors of dark elves before and if they recognized him as one... Well, what was considered an unpardonable stain on his reputation among his own people seemed to make him even more fascinating and appealing to humans. Especially if they were females. Not being as naive as his Shalafi, Dalamar was well aware how striking they both looked. Black mages, self-contained, powerful, secretive, mysterious and unattainable. He had watched similar reactions very often. Young women, eager in their desire to flirt with them, still not daring to draw near, held back by superstition and fear. However, this time, there seemed to be more behind the maid's giggles, their whispered chatter and the amused gazes they regarded him with when they thought he wouldn't notice. Raistlin of course didn't notice any of this at all, bread, cheese and gruel occupying him fully.

Dalamar couldn't deny he was curious. The girls had just begun chattering again, pretending to clean the bar. He could hear them mutter under their breath well enough. And they definitely spoke about the early guests.

Commoners in general either overestimated the abilities of a mage or they underestimated them. It was always a satisfying experience to outwit those who practiced the latter. A cynical smile crossed Dalamar's lips before they formed a barely audible spell. Though his keen elven senses enabled him to even catch a word or two of their talk, he now could lean back, listening to the maidens voices as if standing next to them. The superior smile on Dalamar's face, however, vanished as soon as he caught the content of their conversation.

"And you are sure they are gay? I mean they just don't look like-" whispered one.

"What do you know about how they'd look? It's not as if they have a third arm or something."

"But I don't get it, why must two guys looking this good be gay? It's not fair. Its not-"

"Hush! They will hear you. Did you see the handsome elf staring at us? Maybe he knows what we're talking about?"

"Gosh, you must be kidding. They're sitting at the other end of the room."

"And you are sure that Clarice saw them last night?"

"Yes, the elf, he must be awfully jealous and possessive. And the other mage, he moves like a girl by the way. Watched him yesterday, before Freya hooked him up. They way he holds his head, or how he sits, I'm not sure, but it's a little bit girlish. And when the elf found that his... ehem... _friend_... had left with her, he immediately ran after them. And Clarice, she was cleaning a room in the same floor, she heard that he nearly broke the door when he stormed in and she said she heard them all screaming at each other. And when Freya came out, she wouldn't say a word and hurriedly left the house as if a thousand dark dragons were on her heels, you know? They must have made an appalling scene."

"Do you think they bewitched her or cursed her?"

"Hush, don't speak of such thinks, this will bring bad luck, my grandmother says."

"But I can't help it, I wish I'd been there. Can you imagine the elf being all furious and angry? Poor Freya, getting into the way of mages."

"I wouldn't have liked to see them fighting. I would have liked to see what they were doing later..."

"Oh, you're so depraved!"

Another round of giggles followed, accompanied by a slight blush of Dalamar's cheeks. He couldn't believe what he had just overheard, likewise wishing he hadn't cast the spell. Luckily, the wench had kept her side of the deal, but apparently the lusty housemaids had their own version of the events from the last evening. It was better that way, he tried to tell himself, absently watching his master with a slight look of disdain. Him and Raistlin? What a ridiculous idea. Only human girls could make up a story like that. But on the other hand, objectively, to an outsider it had probably just looked like that. Still, the mere idea was irritating. And what was that about Raistlin moving like a girl? He was a sick man in a destroyed body, and Dalamar had never noticed any especially feminine mannerisms on his Shalafi. At least not before the accident. However, he refused to lavish even one more thought on the meaningless speculations of tavern girls.

He nudged Raistlin slightly, asking him to hurry up and get ready. When they eventually had left the inn, ready to mount the Noxequus, Dalamar suddenly noticed a new pouch dangling from his Shalafi's belt. He recognized it as his pouch with the rhubarb leaf. His missing components. How had they ended up in Raistlin's possession? It couldn't be a mistake since he remembered adjusting the pouch to his own belt the last morning. When had Raistlin taken it? On request, Raistlin appeared as surprised as Dalamar. He shrugged.

"You must have lost it. I probably found it somewhere and mistook it for one of mine. With these many bags and pouches you can mix them all up very easily."

Dalamar shook his head, while Raistlin returned him the pouch.

"Shalafi, you just sounded like a kender."

At that idea, Raistlin froze, staring at Dalamar as if in shock. Finally he shook his head in disgust and sneered. He looked the elf straight into the eyes, the gaze of those cold hourglasses suddenly making the elf shiver in the warm morning air. Raistlin's face was so serious now that he looked nearly like his old self.

"You're kidding." he finally said, looking offended. They mounted their horses. When they both sat in their saddles comfortably, Raistlin again shook his head scathingly.

"Dalamar, sometimes you have really infantile ideas."

At the same time in a juggler's camp...

It was a busy morning in the gypsies' camp. The jugglers were packing, finally preparing to move to the city of Solace which would be their next longer stay. All families moved around their wagons like bees, carrying equipment and putting it into barrels and boxes. Huge tarpaulines had to be folded and packed.

The kender had a great time. Being what they were they couldn't help showing their excitement at the prospect of seeing another interesting town which, according to Tasselhoff, had unbelievingly comfortable jails. To Raistlin's infinite annoyance, the Teketolls had practically adopted Tasselhoff by inviting him to stay with them, and as usual he was sputtering cheerful advice to everybody in reach, regardless whether his audience appreciated his presence or not. Moreover, the kender still hadn't put aside his romantic interests with Raistlin, even though he at least refrained from verbalizing his hopes. That, besides, wasn't necessary anymore to torture the mage; Tasselhoff had very effectively found other ways. Just some minutes ago, he had handed Raistlin a bunch of red roses, -wherever he had gotten these from- instead of a dish the mage had demanded. Tasselhoff had left immediately afterwards, not waiting for Raistlin's reaction. Raistlin had still stood there, startled, pondering how to get rid of the flowers and if they might be put to some use as spellcomponents, when Mrs. Teketoll had climbed in. As soon as she had spotted the roses, she had smiled at Raistlin brightly.

"Oh darling, did you get these from young Tasselhoff? How sweet, he must have found them for you! That is so thoughtful of him! He is a very nice young man, don't you think? Your father and I have already talked about him. We think him very responsible and sensible and-"

At that moment, Naranja unintentionally hastened to his rescue. Being only two persons, she and her mother asked for some helping hands to come over. Raistlin jumped at the opportunity to flee from _that_ conversation and accompanied the young gypsy bard to her wagon. Whatever expected him now, it couldn't be as bad as this caricature of a matchmaker's talk.

When they entered the caravan, the mage immediately smelled a bewitching odor of a herbal incense, used by priests in the south for meditation. Raistlin was familiar with the relaxing effect of the mixture, it was not uncommon among mages to use a similar incense in order to prepare their rituals. Relaxing the body and raising the spirits. As on his other visit, the interior of the caravan was sombre. Thick curtains on the walls and in front of the windows effectively damped the outside noise, creating the atmosphere of a sacred place, untouched by the business of the outside world, where time went at its own pace. Most of the furniture was still unpacked. However, contrary to the kenderfamily, Naranja and her mother hadn't so many things to pack at all. Raistlin spotted Lady Toronja in the backside of the caravan, sitting among cushions, legs crossed. Next to her stood a little bowl with incense and in front of her lay a set of cards. At the girls entrance she took the cards and began to shuffle them. With a graceful, secretive gesture, she beckoned Raistlin to sit down with her. Naranja just shrugged, She was used to this kind of behavior.

"Looks like mother decided to lay the cards for you. Maybe she thinks you need some advice." she whispered into Raistlin's ear and gave him a slight push.

He winced at the touch and stepped forward. The mage wondered whether the fortunetellers invitation was an offer or an order. Meanwhile, he had become curious of the woman's trade. She had a certain reputation in the camp. Every gypsy truly believed in her powers as a seer, so she probably either had real talent or she knew some very convincing tricks at least. Slowly he sat down facing her. Without a word she handed him the cards to shuffle himself. While he was doing this, he felt her scrutinizing, intensive gaze studying him, estimating him. He looked back straight into her eyes, his face giving away no emotion, showing no sign of nervousness. He wouldn't give her any advantage in this game. The fortuneteller merely raised an eyebrow while she took the cards back. Naranja lit some candles. Then she sat down behind Raistlin.

Meanwhile, Lady Toronja turned the first card around, laying it in the middle of the space between them. It was the 'King of Swords'.

"See what you are." Her voice accompanied the gesture as if reciting a poem or a ritual incantation.

"See what hinders you." she continued turning around a second card. She laid it over the first, thus forming a cross. The card showed a female riding on a lion. 'Power' said the card.

"See where you root in."

The next card again belonged to the swords, showing a dead body, lying in a snowy landscape impaled by three swords. Behind him, he heard Naranja give a startled gasp, the card was either important or she hadn't expected that. However, the fortuneteller's face was utterly expressionless like a mask. She placed the Three of Swords below the cross.

"See to what you may rise to."

Her dark, elegant hand revealed the next card and laid it above the cross. Golden bracelets thrummed softly around her wrist. The card said 'Ace of Staves' and showed an ornamented wooden staff impaling a hart-shaped object. Her hand touched the stock again.

"Your past and your present."

Two cards were laid out in quick succession, one was put to the left and one to the right of the cross. The one to the left was again of the swords-kind, this time a nine. He was no warrior, why this affinity for swords? The card to the right, probably symbolizing the present showed a picture he had seen before, it was the lightening struck tower. Behind him Naranja gasped again, bewildered, but Raistlin's eyes were fixed on the woman before him. The fortuneteller frowned shortly, this being the only expression she allowed herself to show. He hardened himself against the disturbing feeling of being the only one who could not extract a meaning of these pictures. He already regretted having given in to the proposal.

Now, the woman's hands moved to the side. Laying another row.

"See what you seek."

The card she turned revealed 'The Mage'. He wasn't really surprised by that anymore.

"See what you will find on your way."

The next card showed a male and female figure, intertwined in a loving kiss. 'The Lovers' it read below. He raised an eyebrow. How cliched.

"See what you must seek for advice." the fortuneteller's emotionless, merciless voice continued slowly, while her hands revealed a crowned man in precious robes sitting on a thrown. The card was named 'The Kingpriest'. She laid it down next to the Lovers.

"Now for the last card."

Naranja's mother hesitated for an instant, before her gracious fingers took one more card from the stock.

"See what you are heading to."

The last card was turned. It showed a dark hooded figure, robed in black, holding an hourglass his skeletal grip. Even without reading the title, Raistlin knew what it said. It was "Death".

The three sat there silently for a while. Raistlin sensed Naranja shiver. But the girl kept quite until her mother, who hadn't taken her eyes of the cards yet, started speaking.

"When I see the cards, I sometimes can see in people's souls." The fortuneteller said, her dark rich voice filling Raistlin's ears. "I don't like and I fear what I see in yours. Too many swords. Were you go, you carry darkness, pain and terror with you. You received, you gave. You may rise to a higher understanding but your greatest strength is your greatest flaw and your power may lead to your destruction. But there is hope."

She tipped on the 'Lovers' and the 'Kingpriest'.

"The Lovers stand for a kindred spirit that will be with you and the Kingpriest usually stands for our faith in the gods or the gods themselves. I can't say which is meant here. Maybe both. Still, you walk a dangerous path that may lead to destruction. Hopefully it will be the beginning of something new. It can be, if you can defeat the darkness within you."

The Fortuneteller finished her speech. Finally, she leaned back her face relaxing. Now it was not a mask of concentration anymore, she showed signs of weariness instead, as if the whole ordeal had exhausted her gravely. He also sat back, startled, and even slightly concerned. Of course it was deception, it had to be. This had not been a real trance, she had just interpreted a pile of colorful pictures. Though her words had struck, she could have guessed that, couldn't she? Still, the seriousness of her words had left a seed of doubt in his heart that even he couldn't deny. What if there was more to those cards? And what did it all mean then? He was lost in thought, his gaze drawn to the cards that still lay in their position, when Naranja tensed.   
"Mother." she cried suddenly her eyes growing large in terror. He had turned to Naranja at first, at her cry he looked back again at the fortuneteller. Her eyes were wide open now. Unnaturally open. They fixed him and likewise seemed to look through him, staring into another world. Her face was pale and bloodless, as if life and soul had left her, leaving only an empty shell behind. Raistlin involuntarily shuddered. He had seen that expression before. He knew the symptoms.

'Mother...'

He pressed his lips firmly together to prevent himself from letting out a shocked gasp and suppressed the sudden, painfully vivid memory on Rosamun's last and lasting trance. At that moment, the fortuneteller opened her mouth, but the words that left her lips were not carried by her own voice. It was as though she was a puppet on strings, forced to speak by an unknown, invisible will. The words seemed to come from another place and time. Dark, warning, intensive. Each syllable burning itself into the souls of the listeners. A message that could not be forgotten.

"_**When neutrality is corrupted, darkness takes over. But the seed of hope may spring from the darkest ground. The cards are given out, but the joker is still in the game. All depends on whom he chooses to serve. It's the little thing that makes a difference.**"_

After that, Lady Toronja went limb and collapsed on the floor.

TBC


	32. More Than Meets the Eye

**Childlike Empress:** The "j" in Naranja is a hard, rasping sound in he back of the throat. The sound is called "jota", I think, and in the international phonetic alphabet it's transcribed as "x". (Hey, the stupid, boring course on phonetics I had to take once was not totally useless. Yeah!) Well, I could tell you the couples now or why I favor some over others but where would be the fun if everything was clear from the beginning? Just wait a little bit longer ;)

**Sadie Elfgirl**: Don't feel too sorry for Raistlin. ;) Most of his problems are caused by himself...

**Dally**: ROFL Did anybody really wonder...

**Ahn-Li:** Gee, I guess it's not the first time that he listens to a dark prophesy. But he is at least irritated and a bit worried. In fact when I re-read the chapter, I noticed that both the card reading and the prophesy would also work well for the original plot of Legends. I was mildly astonished... LOL

**To Guan: Thanks. ;)** I hope this chapter is not too boring since it consists mostly of dialogue and contains no action.

**Hilary:** I guess, you haven't got my mail from 11/13? It was mainly about my last review to LoD. Its supposed to be "fanfiction readers", not only "readers". The system devoured that word somewhere on the data highway... When will your computer work again?

**Juonetar**: I'm not too fond of slash but I'm not against it either. However, I fear in this story everybody is boringly straight. But I love to toy a bit with the funny sexual implications of the exchange AND the possible and impossible pairings. But I can assure you, no Tas/Raistlin. (Does there even exist a story about those two as a couple? Well.. thinking closely... I better don't wanna know...)

**singvogel:** Ah, yes computer trouble. What a boring and stress free place the world could be without that. I hope you killed all the bugs. But I'm glad you enjoy the book. And, I personally think that Dalamar deserves more pity. But that's only me...

Ok, sorry that was a long Author's note...

Enjoy.

**Part 32 - More Than Meets the Eye**

She lay between her cushions unmoving. Raistlin leaned forward and touched her neck, searching for a pulse. Naranja had pressed her hands on her lips and only uttered suppressed sobs. She was probably shocked. However, he didn't find a pulse. Raistlin's hands didn't tremble but he felt himself growing pale. Had the shock of the trance been to much for the seer? Hopefully the girl would get a hold on herself, he maybe would have to tell her that her mother had just-

No. Finally there was a faint pulse. Only later he realized that he had held his breath for a moment. And only after Raistlin was sure that the woman's pulse became stronger again with each passing second, did he turn around to Naranja.

She stared at him, deeply shaken and white-lipped.

"Will she, will she-?"

"She will." he said calmly. "She will be better soon. She just fainted but she will be with us in a moment." he reassured the girl. She calmed visibly at his words.

"What happened?" Naranja murmured and carefully rested her mothers head on a cushion.

"Your mother had a seer's trance."

Naranja only stared at him, unbelieving.

"Did something like that ever happen before?"

She shook her head.

"No. She sometimes gets a little dizzy, but she says this comes with the gift. She always says looking into people's hearts can be draining sometimes. The more depth there is, the more weary she becomes, but it usually wears off soon."

Raistlin bent over the unconscious fortuneteller again, waiting for her eyes to flutter open. He perceived the slight scent of roses encompassing her. A perfume? Possibly. The moment she began to stir, he noticed a copper brooch in her hair. It had the form of a beetle of some sort. While she was turning her head, something strange occurred. For a second Raistlin had the impression that the beetle had become alive and had just moved its legs. He looked closer, but the incident didn't repeat itself. He had been mistaken, his own eyes and excitement likely playing a trick on him in the smoky atmosphere of the clairvoyant's compartment. The beetle showed no signs of oddness anymore, again only a simple copper brooch.

With the aid of her daughter, the fortuneteller sat up slowly, exhaustion plainly written on her face.

"What happened, mama?" Naranja asked anxiously.

The fortuneteller opened her mouth to respond when her gaze fell on Raistlin. Her expression hardened for an instant until she got a hold on herself and stroked her daughter's head, smiling reassuringly.

"Nothing happened dear." she explained to her unbelieving offspring. "Nothing grave. I think I was mistaken this time, with what the cards told. I overexerted my gift during these last few days, child. So I suppose, I just couldn't get in tune with the divine powers while laying the cards for your little friend. I must have gone into an uncontrolled trance and collapsed."

Though she smiled at Raistlin while saying this, the smile didn't reach her eyes. However, Naranja was oblivious to the silent communication between her mother and their visitor. She was obviously happy at that explanation and embraced her mother in relief.

"Mama, promise me never to do that again."

The fortuneteller smiled and kissed the girl's forehead.

"For once I misjudged my own abilities causing the cards to confuse everything. What else should it be? You know the old saying that 'The world will come to an end 'ere a kender ever draws a sword.' Right?"

"Naranja nodded.

"I'm so relieved. And surely Nima is too." She winked at Raistlin. "I was really afraid when all the swords came forth from the stock. They would have meant great worries and sorrow for you. I'm so relieved."

The fortunetellers smile didn't waver, though Raistlin watched her eyes narrow for a moment.

"Lovely, Why don't you go over to Hrongar and ask him for a refreshing tea?" she asked her daughter. "In the meantime Nima will stay with me and help me."

Raistlin nodded, what else could he do?

As soon as they were alone, the fortuneteller sat up erect and glared at Raistlin coldly and distrustful. He had expected that and began to prepare a spell of stunning in case the woman tried something stupid. Lady Toronja stayed calm.

"Who are you?" she asked instead.

"What do you mean?" The mage answered cautiously while he tried to determine if she probably knew of the failed experiment or if she had just tried a shot into the blue.

"Regardless of what I just told my daughter, the cards never lie to me, and I know even this time they spoke the truth. As I said, swords never appear for kender. Their minds go contrary to what these cards symbolize. So there is only one logical conclusion. I don't know who you are. But I know what I saw. You are not a kender. I can't tell if you are here for good or for evil and I demand to know who you are and what you want from us."

He had several choices now. He could try to lie to this woman, or threaten her or he could even tell her the truth. What if she was in fact the mage he was looking for and not Hrongar? Could he risk to inaugurate a stranger into his secrets or should he try to play the innocent once more? He deplored not having his components at hand, otherwise he would have just manipulated her mind easily. Toronja noticed his hesitation.

"You usually don't trust anybody but yourself, don't you?" she asked him. "But maybe the time has come you should trust others a bit. If you have no baleful intent, I don't mean to harm you."

Their glances met. To his surprise he saw a stern wisdom in her gaze and a tranquil reassuring calmness he had not expected to find in the eyes of a simple juggler. Her knowing look seemed to gaze into the depths of his mind, scrutinizing his motives. Suddenly he felt tired of the charade. He had been performing the kender badly at any case. If this women was his enemy then she already knew what she needed too, if she wasn't, he could probably make her his ally. Maybe she was right and it was time to make some allies before everything was too late.

"My name is Raistlin Majere."

"Majere..."

She spoke his lastname carefully as if the syllables held some kind of enchantment.

"What an interesting name. How did you come here?"

"I don't know." he answered honestly. "You could say that I am stranded in this girl's body, I suppose. At the moment, I'm trying to figure out the possible causes for this accident with what little means I have in this camp."

"I assume you deal in magic then." the fortuneteller stated.

"You could say so. I'm a mage."

"A mage, of course." Toronja nodded in assent. "Where is the real Nima?"

"I suspect that she is caught in my body in turn." he answered, purposefully avoiding to mention the crystals or the dreams. Let the women only know what she needed to know.

"This is mess." Toronja finally summed up the situation. "But you will find a solution."

That was it? Nothing more? No further questioning? No impulsive request to bring he kender back? No offer to aid him? Not even accusations or plain mistrust? Just 'this is a mess' and 'you will find a solution'? He was slightly baffled.

"Forgive me, but shouldn't that be the part where you start to scream in panic and accuse me of foul wizardry before you cry for the mob to tie me to a stake and burn me?" he asked casually, his sarcasm obvious.

The women's sole reaction was a mysterious, resigned smile.

"No, for now I will not try to hinder you, nor will I spread your secret. That's why I sent my daughter away. She doesn't need to hear this. It is enough for me to know what you told me. You may not have told me everything but I sensed no lie in your words. Fate sent you on this quest. Although I do not claim to know much about the powers that rule our lives, I know better then to meddle with the strands of fate. Nothing happens by chance. Maybe you are here for a higher reason. I have the feeling that you don't know the reason yourself. But you will find out the answer before all of this is over. That, I know."

He shook his head.

"What if I don't believe in fate?"

Her smile got an amused quality at this response.

"Like the gods, fate doesn't stop existing only because we mortals choose to deny it." she said. "The gods blessed me with the gift of seeing, it is my task to see into the souls of others and give them advice but it is their prerogative to take it to their hearts or not. The gods always allow us this decision."

He raised an eyebrow. The woman sounded like a religious follower or a cleric. As an ally she would be of no use, although he somehow sensed that she would do as she had said and keep his secret.

"I pay respect to the three Masters of Magic, but I don't care for the schemes of this happy little pantheon up in the heavens as long as they don't help me to get out of here." Raistlin finally answered, rising to his feet. "All I care for is to get my life back. This camp, the gods, enigmatic transcendent forces of fate, your cards, they don't matter to me at all. As long as you can't aid me in restoring my former existence, I guess this discussion won't lead to any useful results. And as long as you don't try to thwart my actions, I have no further reason to speak to you. Good day to you, fortuneteller."

She also stood up exerting herself. He was already at the door when she spoke again her voice was deadly calm now.

"One last piece of advice that I recommend you to heed to, mage."

"Yes?"

"My daughter likes you and thinks you her friend. Right now I don't see a reason to take her that illusion, since her happiness means all to me. She doesn't need to be involved in your arcane dealings, though. If you lay one hand on her, if you harm her in body, mind or soul, I promise you will not live to see the end of the day."

He turned around, a cold, polite smile on his lips.

"I congratulate you to so much trust in your abilities that you think yourself a challenge for me. But you can be at ease, your daughter's body, mind or soul hold no interest for me in the least. Keep her out of my way and we won't have any disagreements, my Lady."

The fortuneteller's eyes blazed in anger and her voice gained a strict authority when she spoke.

"This camp has survived the terrible years of war, it has survived prosecution by landlords and their guards as well as it survived the Dragonlords and their armies. We were confronted with the people's hate and distrust for our kind innumerable times and we even had to face Draconian troops occasionally. We overcame it all. Scarred, maybe, but we are still alive. You can trust that there are higher forces protecting us and guarding our way. You do not want to meddle with these higher forces, Mage. Here is more than meets the eye. And though your sorcery may be powerful, you are not the only one in this world who knows the secrets of the ancient. Don't forget that in your arrogance."

"Do you threaten me, Lady Toronja?"

"I gave you a fair warning, Magus Majere."

"Warn me, you may. But you can not make a good archpriest out of a rogue." He shrugged casually and opened the door. "I will act as I think necessary."

He left.

The woman stood motionless for a while, then nodded once and whispered something at the door which the mage had closed behind him.

"I know. And personally I think you are dangerous. But the higher forces you dismiss so easily decided to give you a guiding prophesy and I accept that you must find your own path. I may not like you, but I wish you luck on your quest. And if its only for the sake of this camp and its people."

TBC


	33. Reflection And Distraction

**A/N:** I know this chapter is rather short but I promise the next one will be twice as long. Since I'm a bit short of time, I'll leave out the review comments this time but, you know, your reviews are always appreciated.

Petalwing

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**Chapter 33 - Reflection and Distraction**

For the next few days, Raistlin didn't have much time to consider what had happened in the fortuneteller's wagon or what powers Naranja's mother might have. The days went by quickly, the tasks of the trek demanding everyone's full attention. In the evenings, Raistlin fell into bed exhausted from the day's work. He was not the only one. Even the Teketolls and Tasselhoff appeared quieter and more serene then usual. While on the road, the gypsies even did without the obligatory camp-fire gatherings in the evening. They needed their sleep at night and the mornings started early. The days passed without a chance for Raistlin to rest or to proceed further with his studies. Meanwhile he had gotten accustomed to the idea that he would get his next useful chance in Solace not earlier. However, it was still frustrating to carry a powerful artifact around without being allowed to investigate it.

The kender girl had compared his situation with hanging around in a sugar-baker's shop on a fasting day. Raistlin had soon found that his involuntary dream acquaintance was a sputtering well of proverbs of all sorts. Unbelievingly silly proverbs most of the time, but they occasionally met the point. Though he refused to admit it, he had somehow begun to look forward each day to the evening and to their meetings. Of course he didn't actually enjoy these encounters with the Queen of Nonsense, but at least he didn't need to keep up the absurd charade while being with her. Each conversation between them turned out to be an argument, of course. A logical occurrence, since she was obviously unable to lead a serious discussion, while he saw no point in meaningless small-talk. Their mutual rants, however, had at least a relieving quality. After having to abstain from magical studies, he was forced to use this as another way of releasing his general frustration. It wasn't as effective as thrusting himself into secluded study, but useful nonetheless.

After a week the jugglers decided to take a one day break to replenish stocks and provisions. They camped in a valley not far away from the road, near woods providing them with wood for fires and repair work. To Raistlin's dismay, the prospect of sleeping late the next day led unavoidably to the typical party in the evening. The jugglers seemingly needed their feasting as others needed breathing.

Raistlin attended the revelry as long as necessary to be inconspicuous before he had allowed himself to flee from a certain kender's star-crossed looks. Not feeling like going back to the wagon either, he found himself at the edge of the forest after a while, enjoying the tranquil silence of the trees. He sat down on a huge stone and relaxed, a soft summer breeze caressing the skin of his face. He took a deep breath and realized for the first time how relieving it felt to be free from the constant sickness. He had left it behind in his body and the kender had to cope with it now. Of course she had complained innumerable times about his state of health but as long as this mad exchange lasted, it was her task to deal with it. He snickered soundlessly at the thought of an astonished and frightened Nima suffering from a coughing attack. Let the fierce girl know how it felt to be in his shoes. Sometimes during the last few days he had felt a slight discomfort in the area of his lungs but that was surely a result of the mental stress this whole affair caused him.

Now that he had time, he pondered the crystals again and thought back to the argument with the fortuneteller. Who was Naranja's mother? Did she bear any powers he couldn't assess or had she just tried to bluff him?

He hadn't come further in his reflections when soft steps hurried near and a graceful female silhouette appeared out of the night, quickly turning into Naranja's slender form. He kept quite and motionless, but apparently she was looking for him and had spotted him by know.

"Ha, Nima. Here you are. I wouldn't have found you but Tiomar said he saw you walking down this way."

Raistlin rolled his eyes. Oh, how unspeakably grateful he was to the ranger for this.

"What are you doing here in the middle of the night, alone? Are you troubled for some reason?"

Now the obligatory tell-your-best-friend questioning had begun. Such rituals of mutual torture were the reason he didn't have friends. His enemies were sufficient, thank you.

"No I just needed some time to think." Raistlin played the situation down.

"Think? What about?" Naranja sat down next to him. "Maybe I can help you think."

Oh that girl was annoyingly persistent.

"No, no. I was just relaxing."

"Relaxing..." she pondered. "Relaxing is fine. The last days were somewhat straining and not very enjoyable. I hate routines. I love life to be adventurous and interesting with new things and excitement luring beneath each corner."

In the darkness she couldn't see him frowning. What did she know of the hardships of adventure? Maybe she would learn her lessons soon, and they would be hard, he could have promised her that. They always were. However, he preferred to keep the peace and stay silent. The slight wind turned and carried the sound of music from the camp with it. Suddenly Naranja clapped him on the shoulder.

"Hey, you know what? Sitting is not as half as relaxing as dancing."

She slid from the stone and tried out a few dancing steps.

"I haven't seen you dance in a long time, Nima. Why don't you dance anymore? You used to be so keen on dancing."

Oh blast! The little kender was likewise a dancer? Couldn't this cursed girl have any decent interests like reading or learning? Of course this was wishful thinking; since when did kender read anything besides outdated maps of dubious provenance?

"I still do dance." Raistlin tried. "I just didn't feel like doing it constantly. You know, routines..."

Naranja laughed.

"Oh c'mon Nima. I never though I'd say this but don't be such a spoilsport. Isn't it great? Only we two and the night? Nobody else is here besides us and the trees. It's summer, we're young, we have a good time, why don't you want to dance? C'mon! I show you some new steps. That'll be fun!"

He sighed inwardly. She was so persistant. Of course she wouldn't go until he gave in and did as she demanded. And if he insisted on his refusal to dance, more questions would follow and she would likely become suspicious. He consoled himself with the fact that it was only themselves and the night. That was better than being forced to dance another time, probably with Tasselhoff and the rest being around. No, the remoteness of this place was definitely preferable. Slowly he let himself slide from the stone and joined her.

"Fine, show me the steps, but afterwards I'll go to bed, I'm awfully tired."

She clasped her hands in approval and then grabbed his, dragging him to an even spot.

"Now that's the Nima I know. And that's what I always do when I'm about to get depressed. I dance with my friends."

The music was not loud but could still be heard clearly. She began to move to the rhythm, showing him an unfamiliar step pattern.

"Yeah, can you feel it? You just start moving your legs to the front and the back, its not that difficult."

He didn't pay much attention to her words, he heard her speaking but the meaning behind her sentences didn't matter. He tried to move a little and copy her steps. The lively rhythm of the dance, the sounds of drums and a joyful viola rustled through the soft sounds of the summer woods as if even the wind and the trees shared the dance, subtly swaying back and forth in harmony.

'Let's get over with his nonsense.' Raistlin thought resignedly.

TBC

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**A/N**: To Childlike Empress: I know regardless of what I say, you'll probably point out that this chapter hints at Raistlin/Naranja again... but... but... the bunnies made me do it!!!


	34. The Dreaded Fiend Called Joy

**A/N: Childlike Empress:** Yeah, the bunny conspiracy is great. It has become some kind of running gag between Dally and me.

**Lady Valura**: Yay, somebody noticed the "discomfort in the lungs" - issue. Things are explained here. More or less...

**Hilary**: No, they don't let him rest. But this time, Tas is not responsible for the trouble...

**Guan**: This one is longer. ;) Have fun.

**Dally**: Did the bunnies play the Salsamusic in this chapter? We'll never know...

and **everybody**: Thanks for reviewing!

Enjoy.

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**Chapter 34 - The Dreaded Fiend Called Joy**

At first, he looked at Naranja and studied how she raised her slender legs from the ground leaping in playful steps. She demonstrated some easy sequences for him and he tried to follow. He had watched other people dance often enough but he had rarely tried it himself. It had never occurred to him that dancing should be something more than a primitive amusement for those who had not enough brains to enjoy the fascination of intellectual challenges. The music was still there. He had to admit that something in the gypsy's rhythm was catching. It seemed to have a power to force body and feet into movement. After a while he began to follow the patterns of the rhythm. In contradiction to the simplicity of these songs, some underlying logic was hidden in those pieces. A complicated paragon. Comparable maybe to the pattern of a spell. He made up an easy step pattern and let the drums and the crying viola guide him.

'This is relatively easy. I haven't begun to get bored yet. Which is strange. Everything around this place is so dull. But there is some strange kind of logic in here. I still don't know why people get so entertained by this. But this is not boring, this is actually less tedious than I thought.'

"But can also move to the side..."

Naranja kept talking but it sounded just like echoes in his head. He glided farther into concentrating on the way his feet moved. Only music was there.

'Hm. This is something else. I don't know how people amuse themselves like this. It is stupid. This is just a waste of time. This is a waste of my time. I should be in the tower. Learning, doing something worthy. Yet I cannot stop. I could, there is nothing forcing me to dance.'

"Smile Nima! We always used to have a lot of fun, just like now..."

'But I won't. This is strange, I never felt this way before.'

"Oh I have got to get some water. Otherwise I'll get tired from dancing all night. Now its getting hot, don't you think?"

Raistlin noticed absently that the gypsy gave an excuse and hurried back to the camp.

'Indeed, there is something odd about this. What is this kind of witchcraft I've never known before? I feel a warm sensation, growing from the bottom of my feet. Rising slowly and twisting in my stomach. Yet, it is not something that I could compare with any disease of mine. I can feel my body slowly heating up and giving me a... hm... well... it actually gives me a comforting sensation of warmth. And a strange... impression... that this turmoil I am in right now it's not as bad for me as I thought it to be. Will there be actually something... is there something that can justify this type of movement? Is there a lesson that I must learn from... dance?'

It nearly escaped his notice that Naranja had come back.

"Hi, Nima you are still dancing? I knew you'd like it. I can teach you some more steps if you want. Look, you can..."

'Do I like it? Is there a slight possibility that I can like dancing? Or is that some kind of charm that kender and gypsies have put on me? This must be some kind of trick. Ha... I'm just getting too accustomed to being a kender. This dancing, this horrible dancing... this joyful movement of the body, designed to bring happiness. Is it actually happiness that I'm feeling? A relaxing sensation?'

Without noticing it, Raistlin stopped moving as he gave his mind a rest. The strength of his conclusion forced him to halt for a moment.

"Am I having fun?"

Raistlin was confused. He knew that the girl was watching so he continued to move. But his mind was busy with troubling thoughts. He didn't know which was worse. The possibility of him having fun, or the terror he had felt when he had accepted that this actually was a possibility. This master of darkness, this wizard of the blackest order was being disturbed by simple artistic manifestations of light and joy? In the darkest corners of his heart... could he actually be touched by... Good?

The whole idea made him so sick, that there was nothing for him to do save to turn and run away.

He felt his feet moving swiftly and heard his own short breaths as he ran farther into the darkness of the nightly woods. He had to...get...away...from... them. This made him soft. What had they done to him? Why did they suddenly have the power to touch and move his emotions with their rhythm like they had moved his body? How could this have been possible? Cursed bards and their cursed music! How could this simple dance induce such a loss of control? Naranja hadn't even sung. A huge tree appeared out of the darkness. Raistlin dodged it. He took a few more steps and stopped.

He was alone now. Far away enough for not having to hear their voices, their music and their goddamned laughter anymore. He was alone. In the dark. At least this was something he was used to. The sudden silence of the night only disturbed by his own ragged breathing made him come to his senses again. He could start to think it over now, could analyze what had happened...

Suddenly he heard footsteps.

"Nima, Nima where are you? Why did you just run away like that?"

Oh, this terrible girl! For that second, he hated her. He hated her for having triggered this unwanted experience. Hated her for being so damned caring and happy. So naive. Like his brother. Just like Caramon.

"Go away!" he hissed as she stepped up to him. "Leave me alone."

"But Nima? What happened? Is there something I can do for you?" She laid her delicate, feminine hand on his shoulder. "Are you not feeling-"

"SHUT UP!" he shouted and pushed her hand away. She had sounded so much like Caramon that he had felt like drowning in her care. Only too late he realized that his move had been so violent it had made her stumble and trip over the root of a tree. She fell and he made no effort catching her or helping her up.

"If I need your help, I will ask you. Right now I don't! So leave me be!"

His words were cold as ice. She raised herself awkwardly from the ground. He could sense that she was hurt. He had done it again. Because once more he wasn't able to bear her presence any longer. This time it was worse than on the evening in the caravan. He had only been annoyed then. Now he desperately needed her to leave. Her concerned looks pierced his heart, agonized him. She couldn't understand. Of course she couldn't. It didn't matter to him. The only thing he cared for at this point was being left alone. Not having to bear the care of someone who was the last person he would show his misery to. Finally he knew he had won. Shaking her head, Naranja turned to go.

"Don't stay there too long. It can get cold."

He needn't to be an empath to hear the pain and anger in her voice. Then she was gone and he was alone as he had commanded.

But the sudden silence seemed even more depressing now. Shivering, he sank on a nearby tree stump. Though it was a warm summer night, he felt cold. Nevertheless, he refused to go back to the camp. Back to those thrice-cursed, happy, shining faces. Raistlin clung is arms around himself and prevented to ignore his trembling body. Was it just the cold that shook him or was it the overwhelming feeling of despair which he fought since he had sent Naranja away?

He was nearly sure now, he had felt happiness while dancing. A pleasure that was in certain respects similar to the sovereign, fulfilling, exquisite taste he felt when working a spell or concluding a long prepared ritual. All his life he had been sure that only magic could fulfil in this way. Only magic. For nearly two decades it had been his own true source of delight. Nothing else had given him these feelings. And now, after such a long time, this barely grown-up gypsy girl should have an answer he had not been able to give himself? That could not be true. It mustn't!

He had listened to music before. He had heard beautiful elven voices singing intriguing ballads. He had seen talented bards performing the finest dance music. He hadn't always been able to avoid feasts where he occasionally had been forced to dance himself. But none of these things had him ever touched. Except for Naranja's song. That was a different matter, though; she had used manipulative magic after all.

So far, only the gift of magic had given him pleasure. And he had been sure that it had to be this way. That things were what they were. Now he couldn't be sure of that anymore. If the unbelievable was really true, if he had found some kind of joy in the music... then... then... maybe he had been wrong all his life. Could there be anything else beside the realms of sorcery? The thought made him sick. That couldn't be because it mustn't be. He was Raistlin, godammit! Magic was his life! And all he wanted was to control its forces to gain access to the full power it could grant. He had never been able to cherish anything else beside it and he had never missed it. Hadn't he? Had he?

Had he never found anything or anyone else since it had been determined to be like this, or because, at a certain point in his life, he hadn't allowed himself to try anymore? He bit on his lip until he felt blood in the corner of his mouth. These doubts. These terrifying doubts. That one horrorstricken moment of realization that made him question his whole life. His stomach seemed to twist and turn. He felt so sick. And he froze. Had the night become cold suddenly or did he himself burn in a strange inner fire? He coughed. Coughed from a sickness that had let him at ease for nearly two weeks now. The cough that he thought he had left in his own body. Now it had found him. Was there, back again. He felt a familiar pain in the lungs.

That sickness!

How could that be? How? This body was not sick. So it had to be his mind, his soul. It carried the illness with it. Maybe he had been wrong in that as well. Maybe his frail body could not be blamed for everything after all. Had he thus inflicted this pain on himself? But why? Some inner part of him claimed to have an answer. He didn't want to know it, but the nagging part cruelly forced itself into consciousness, finally claiming dominance. He didn't know himself anymore. Who was this man called Raistlin? Had he been the way he was or had he just made up an image of himself? An image that had become so strong that he finally had believed it to be truth? Had he really followed his inner nature or just his own mental picture of himself? Had Raistlin been his own perfect creation? Could this explain his nightmares and his sickness? The messengers of those things he had refused to see? The things he had eliminated because they didn't fit in the ideal of himself he had invented? Had he really been able to eliminate them or had be just banned them from his conscious thoughts? He screamed in the pain his reflections gave him. His body tried to burn itself out. He was in such emotional turmoil that he didn't even notice the tears that run along his cheeks. Thoughts and emotions whirled around in his tortured, burning mind that it nearly tore him apart. He only stopped screaming when he turned over and vomited.

When Raistlin was absolutely sure he'd finished spitting out all of the food from the last week, he let himself sink against the backside of the tree stump he had been sitting on. The sickness was still there, but there were no resources left. He hadn't even the strength to throw up anymore. At least the vomiting had broken the stream of thoughts. He felt so empty now that even emotions and reflections had gone. Only dizziness and tiredness were left. He let himself sink onto the ground and lay there for considerable time. Unthinking, unfeeling.

Then, a warm strong hand touched his shoulder and a voice spoke to him. Something was familiar about this. Was that Caramon who had found him as always when he had had a breakdown? But Caramon couldn't be here, could he? Blinking he stared at the stranger. A soft shake helped him to find his way back to reality. This was not Caramon. Tiomar, the Half-Orc, kneeled in front of him. It took Raistlin several seconds but then he was able to understand what was said.

"Naranja sent me. She asked me to find you and keep watch."

That girl was indeed very much like Caramon!

"Seems that she was right to send me."

In the meantime he supported Raistlin with his left arm and produced a handkerchief out of somewhere to help the mage clean his face.

"I want to be alone." Raistlin whispered.

"We don't always get what we want." The halfbreed said softly but determined. "I'll bring you back now."

With those words he stood up, carrying Raistlin in his arms. The mage felt to dizzy and too exhausted to seriously fight the halfblooded ranger. And it felt so familiar. Tiomar's presence was supporting, soothing, as Caramon's had been sometimes.

He let himself be carried away. Tonight he wouldn't do anything anymore. He just wanted to sleep.

When they arrived at the camp, everybody was still celebrating. The wagons were silent and empty. Raistlin couldn't tell it for sure but he had the feeling that Tiomar walked trough shadowy corners in order to avoid being seen. He was thankful to the halfblood for this sign of understanding. Tiomar had more brains than he had credited him at first. Silently Tiomar carried the mage to the Teketoll's wagon and put him in his bed. Then he left Raistlin alone. Already at the door, he halted.

"I see that you have some problems, Nima. Everybody sees that. You can't blame them for trying to help you. I know, for some reason you don't want to talk. I'm not your mother and I'm not Naranja. And I know that there are some situations in life one has to face alone. But if you ever need someone to listen to you, I will be there."

The next thing Raistlin heard was the closing of the door.

--

TBC


	35. Sick And Tired

**A/N:Childlike Empress**: Thanks for the flattery. Im not surewhat was meant by your last statement. Looks like part of the review was deleted. Can you tell me the suggestion vial email?

**Singvogel**: Yeah,I guess they have. They even have halloween...

**Dally**: No this weren't the bunnies, this were some technocratic gremlins...

**Lady Valura**: This is all part of the change he has to undergo to fit in this romance but I loved writing these introspections all the same.

**Guan**: I always had the feeling that Raistklin's sickness feeds a good deal from his mental stress and his unwillingness to care about himself.

**Chickens**: If you like it angsty, you'll probaly going to love the next few chapters...

--

_You might notice that the pronoun "they" is sometimes written in italics in this chapter. I chose this method to indicate when "they" is used as a proper noun. When it functions as a normal pronoun, the spelling is average. Let's just say, it is a stylistic experiment. Let me know if you don't feel comfortable with it. Then, I'll look for another solution._

--

**Chapter 35 - Sick and Tired**

_"The house of Raistlin's soul was far different. The door was kept barred, opened only a crack to visitors, and then only a few were permitted to cross the threshold. Once there, they were not allowed to come much farther. His windows were shut and shuttered. Here and there a candle gleamed, a warm spot in the darkness. His house was filled with furniture and objects strange and wonderful, but it was not messy or cluttered. He could instantly lay his hand on whatever was needed. Visitors could not find his corners, much less pry into them. Small wonder they never liked to stay long, were reluctant to return." _(From: "The Soulforge"; Wizards of the Coast 2003, p. 238)

He lay in a bed in a dark room. Something about this room was familiar. The smell... he was back in Solace in his old room. Raistlin shivered under his blanket, freezing. His head hurt and he could hear the pulsating sound of his blood rushing through his veins. He knew he was ill. Sick. Weak. Defeated. His mind was confused. Why was he in Solace? Had he gotten the plague? He felt the exhausting heat of fever behind his forehead. What had happened last? How had he gotten here? His fingers clutched the blanket. It was thin, much too thin. He huddled against it, his limbs trembling in the cold dark atmosphere of the chamber. The windows were closed, shutting the light out. No beam of light permeated the darkness. No sound penetrated the silence save for his own ragged breathing. It was dark and quiet. The quietness of a grave. He wondered where Caramon had gone. If he was back in Solace, surely his twin was around somewhere. Yet there was nothing. Nobody came; had they forgotten about him? Of course, nobody had ever cared for Raistlin Majere. If Caramon was not here, who should?

He was in a dark place, weak and vulnerable with no means to cure himself. Panic began to swell up and for once Raistlin Majere longed for some company. Someone to tell him what was going on. He tried to call. Somebody had to be here.

Then, to his horror he realized that he couldn't speak. His chest was in pain again, an invisible pressure had settled right above him and squashed his lungs slowly, agonizingly. He knew it was useless to try to scream, he wouldn't be heard. This was not the Solace of his childhood. It was the _Other_ Solace. The dark place that had so often haunted him during the nights.

Raistlin knew what would happen next when he heard the sound of something moving outside the window shutters. Something was there, outside, and it was not anybody who would help him. He knew he was alone. Alone with the lurking beings outside...

_They_ had come for him earlier. And even now that he was not a boy anymore, they finally saw another chance to get him. In the darkness he could clearly hear the grating sound of a shutter opening slowly. They were already coming in. Who they were, he didn't know. Only that they came after him. They came with the darkness in the night and they were after him...

The unseen pressure above him was still there, it stole his breath and forced him to lay unmoving. There was nothing he could do, not even run. The pain in his chest grew even worse until he reached the point when it felt like suffocating. He couldn't even twitch a muscle to ease the pain, or fight, or do something. All he was allowed to do was to lay there and listen for them approach. They made soft slurping and clicking sounds when they came. Like a thousand little sharp claws flitting over the floor.

"Click. Click. Click."

They were near now, too near.

Raistlin knew he was dreaming but he couldn't wake up. Where was Caramon? His strong twin had to wake him up. He was always the one to wake him up and free him from their influence. 'Brother, where are you?'

They had reached the bed now, he was still fixed to the mattress. The feeling of utter panic they caused was overwhelming. They encircled the bed, gathering under it. Right under him. Soft scratches on wood.

"Click. Click. Click."

Why was he always left alone with them? One by one the creatures began to climb out of the darkness, up the wooden frame. He would have trashed about and screamed but he was still paralyzed, a frozen statue. He felt their unseen presence when they had reached the pillow. Tears of pure desperation welled up in eyes. They would devour him, feeding on his pain and agony and this time, nobody was there to wake him up, to show him shadow bunnies on the wall...

"Click. Click. Click."

"They mustn't reach me, they mustn't reach me..."

So near! They were so near already, creeping over the rustling pillow. He could almost feel their chilling, agonizing touch on his cheek, and that shook his very soul to the core. No hope. He was alone.

All of a sudden there were steps outside and somebody knocked on the door. A hope? The scene froze and the beings halted, disturbed. He wanted to shout at whomever was outside to come in, to be with him, but no word came over his lips. Only few metres and a door. Only few metres and still worlds apart. He was isolated from the outside by darkness and shadows. Shadows filling his room, shadows, pressing his lung, shadows enchaining him... He could do nothing to make himself known. And his tormenters knew it. And then, they moved again. He was already beyond panic, awaiting their touch...

When a light voice yelled: "Who ever's in there, I'm coming!"

A lock turned and the door opened.

Suddenly a beam of light fell into the chamber chasing them away. They fled instantly, crawled back into the shadowy chasms they had arisen from, without a trace. Instantly, the pressing weight was gone from Raistlin's chest and he sat up slowly, while a familiar kender girl stepped near with a curious expression.

"Hullo, Raistlin!" she chirped. "Thought I'd find you somewhere around. Man, don't wanna be impolite, but you look terrible. Are you sick? Do you know what this strange house is? There are so many rooms and they are all dusky. And then I went up some stairs and I was here, on this floor, and when I looked back, the stairs were gone. Really gone. I think the house is moving or something. And then, there was the door to this room and I just had to open it. I hope I didn't disturb you. Oh man, you're REALLY HOT! You have FEVER!" she eventually exclaimed.

During her tirade she had sat down next to him putting her hand on his forehead. She behaved like it was completely normal to touch him like this, in a familiar, almost intimate way. He knew kender tended to take a lot for granted, but this went a bit too far. The girl had not even hesitated for a second and taken advantage of his current befuddlement. On the other hand, he couldn't explain to himself why he had even allowed her to do so. He could have pushed her away again. It would have been easy. Nonetheless, he did nothing to stop her. For a strange reason her presence was oddly consoling and it kept _them_ at bay. This time her touch was different. Although it caused another prickle to run down his spine, it was soft and soothing rather then irritating.

"Wow, you really have fever and you know what? I have a headache too, and I feel a little dizzy like I'm walking on wool. But this time I didn't drink! I swear! Wait, I have an idea! You lie down again and I'll look for more blankets and try to get some water or something. I'm thirsty too. And it is cold here. There should be a kitchen somewhere..."

"Wait!"

The thought of being left alone again was less then tempting. She hesitated.

"I'll come with you. You don't know your way around here." Raistlin decided and sat up.

"No, no. You must lie down and rest."

Nima tried to push him back onto the bed in a motherly way, but her own condition seemed to be strained at the moment. At the abrupt movement her dizziness increased and the room spun around her. All of a sudden, Nima's legs gave way under her and she ended up clumsily staggering forward, practically falling into Raistlin's arms. She clutched his shoulders in a reflex, searching for a hold. Too late she realized what was happening. Mage and kender were suddenly caught in an involuntary embrace. For a moment they stared at each other confused and slightly abashed. For a heartbeat the world stopped turning...

Until Raistlin shoved the girl away. While holding her he had noticed that her skin was not quite as cool as it should be. Her eyes were unnaturally wide, cold sweat glistened on her forehead and she panted slightly as if from exertion. It seemed he was not the only one being sick. The kender of course had not realized it.

"Where are we?" Nima asked into the silence. She tried to distract herself from a strange feeling that had overcome her. It had manifested as an odd flutter in her stomach. As if she was hungry. But not too hungry. If somebody had offered her food in this moment she would have not been able to eat anything, she realized. How strange and now she was nervous, too. Was this a reaction to the warm comforting feel of his arms around her? 'Never mind', she commanded herself and focused on the original question again.

"We're not in the Globule-world anymore."

"No" he answered and after a while added "We're on the Other Side"

"Ha?"

"A dark place. It is empty. Bereft of life. It is like the world you know and it is different. It's an evil place with shadows lurking in each dusky corner. I used to call this place 'the Other Side'. Every child knows it from their most feared dreams. I've been here often in my youth. I tried to tell Caramon about it, but of course he never understood the terror it holds for those doomed to walk its paths each night."

She apparently had also trouble with understanding.

"Is it another err... How do you say?... realm... like the dreamlands?"

He sighed softly.

"Yes and no. It is in many respects a world of its own. But in contrast to the dreamlands it is purely inside the mind. When I was young I believed it to be real, later I learned that it mainly consists of the facts we cannot face at day. It is the part in ourselves that is hidden by daylight and only revealed in darkness. Later I learned that I didn't have to be afraid of the darkness, and the Other Side gradually lost its hold on me. Everybody has his own Other Side."

He gave her an estimating look.

"Everybody besides a kender I suppose."

"But now it has come back to you." she pondered with an unexpected amount of insight. "Does that mean we're caught in a nightmare of yours or something like that?"

He snickered, a short and dry sound. It sounded harsh, even to himself.

"I couldn't have described it better. That is basically what I've surmised."

TBC


	36. Imaginations From the Other Side

I'm very sorry that this takes so long but at the moment I can't find time for writing. I blame it on Christmas time. So forgive me that I leave out the usual review comments. Except to Childlike Empress. I fear that our darling host doesn't allow emailadresses in reviews for the emailadress was not displayed in your last review either. Please write me an email on that, I might go and follow your suggestion.

Oh, and if you hated the last cliff-hanger you'll probably want to strangle me for this one...

Thnaks to you all for reviewing,

Petalwing

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**Chapter 36 - Imaginations From the Other Side**

_'I'm half sick of shadows said the Lady of Shalott.'_

"Hm..." Nima pressed her index finger against her lower lip while thinking. It was not the first time Raistlin had noticed this habit. "That leaves two questions. How did we come here in the first place and how do we get out of here?"

She looked him questioningly. Her gaze met a cynical smile on the mage's lips.

"Kender, if I had already figured out the answer to your questions, I would definitely not be here anymore."

"You surely meant 'we' not 'I'." Nima corrected. "WE would be out of here."

He frowned.

"Really? Did I?"

She pouted. On her sweet girlish face it looked out of place and almost comical.

"Of course you meant 'we'." she insisted stubbornly. "I mean, it's your odd dream after all. You are responsible. So it is your job to get us out again. I'm just your average guardian-kender who watches over you."

In response he leaned towards her until their faces were as close as quill-distance, his eyes narrowing. Dark hourglasses fixed her. His voice was nothing more then a hoarse whisper.

"Once for all, kender, keep one thing in mind: There exists no 'We'. Just because we're both involved in this, it doesn't mean that I feel in any way responsible for you, even less that I would be loyal in any respect. These meetings are only a temporary inconvenience that I will undo soon. Your presence here is nothing more than an unfortunate coincidence without any further meaning or obligation. You are completely unimportant."

He leaned back after having made his point clear. To his surprise there was no apparent reaction on her face, though. He had expected refusal, defiance or offended looks. However, her expression was rather dreamy than anything else. And her next question even made him doubt whether she had actually listened to his words.

"You smell nice. Like herbs and roses, you know?"

What in the abyss was wrong with this tedious girl? Was she a half-wit?

"Did you listen to one word I said?"

"Of course." Nima grinned and if he hadn't been sure that kender were not capable of this, he would have regarded her expression as sly.

"You said 'we'."

"What do you mean?" he demanded irritably.

Nima hadn't stopped grinning yet.

"You said 'we'. When you said 'Just because we're both involved in this' you said 'we'. But you know what? I don't have time to argue about this right now. I'm too thirsty to think. This is too complicated for me, let's look for the kitchen. Since its your dream, you should probably lead the way, don't you think?"

For once he felt rhetorically disarmed. He couldn't quite deny that she was right in respect to his use of grammar and she had also been the first to get back to the right priorities. There was only one thing left to do. He rose carefully and strode past her.

"This is no average dream or we would be awake by now. Therefore, we will look for a way to wake up or for a passage back to the globule." Raistlin said when he entered the hall, ending all discussions about kitchens.

He didn't look back to make sure that she followed him. Sometimes, he realized, ignorance must be blissful.

He opened the door and entered a narrow hallway. It was dim, barely illuminated by an indirect light of unknown source. As the kender had said, to the right, there was a dead end. The only door stood at the end of the hallway, to the left. The wooden floor resembled the building in Solace in some respects but it was likewise unfamiliar. Raistlin saw no other option and slowly proceeded to the only door that could lead them further. He had to stop twice and lean against the wall. His draining fever definitely didn't make things easier. In the moment his fingers closed around the doorknob, the door sprang open...

They stood in a high hall. Dark walls surrounded them with bookshelves covering every spot. A small fireplace in the back of the hall was the only source of light. This room had similarities to his own library in the tower of Palanthas, yet there were subtle differences. However, there was not one single object that didn't seem oddly familiar. Only the arrangement was wrong, or at least warped. Behind him he heard the kender gasp. What had she done now?

"Huh, Raistlin." she exclaimed." The door has gone! Look!"

Indeed, solid wall filled the place where they had just stepped through.

"Ha, I told you that this creepy house was moving!"

He muttered a spell and performed the necessary gestures. However, it was not a concealed door. Even to astral sight the wall was solid and not distinguishable from the other parts. He had to admit that this was actually irritating. However, he didn't want to analyze the physical possibilities of a reality where a door in Solace lead to a bizarre copy of a library in Palanthas. They had to watch their step. He was about to pass on the warning to Nima, when he noticed that she was gone while he had been preoccupied with his true-sight invocation. At the same time, he heard her yell excitedly from somewhere to the left. Passing a bookshelf he found her occupied with another door.

"I found another one!" she cried happily and opened it. The moment Raistlin sped up to reach her in time before she inevitably performed an inconsiderate action, the fever demanded another tribute and for some moments darkness welled up before his eyes. He staggered shortly and when his sight cleared, she was already gone.

He peered through the open door and saw the old schoolroom of Master Theobald's house. But in contrast to how he had always experienced it in the past, it was dark and deserted as if it hadn't been used for years. Only a candle on the teacher's table lit the room. The blackboard still had some vowels in the language of magic written on it. This was a remnant of Master Theobald's usual writing tests. Even in the darkness, Raistlin could recognize his own clear handwriting among the crude scribble of his classmates.

Over the white chalk letters of the students, somebody had painted other signs. Signs that were much more elaborate and complicated. These symbols were not as prominent as the student's inscriptions since they had been painted with red color. After a while, he recognized a pentagram and certain astrological signs as they were used in the summoning of beings from other planes. But Theobald had surely never taught his students anything like this? Even he, Raistlin, had needed years of study and research to find a way to these secrets and mysteries of the dark sides of magic.

But more importantly, he couldn't sense Nima in the classroom. If she had been here, she would have said something by now. It was completely impossible for her to keep her mouth shut longer then a minute.

He still pondered where she could have been transported to, when he heard the soft scratching of several opening drawers from the student's desks.

His eyes widened. _They_ were close again. They had waited for a chance to trap him without light. Within seconds the candle flickered and expired. To his utmost horror he heard the beings clicking and shuffling behind the blackboard and under the tables. He had only once chance, he had to be quicker then them. Luckily he hadn't let go of the door yet. They were only inches away now, speeding up and charging for him as if his sheer presence was a clear signal in the darkness. Without thinking he made a hasty step back and banged the door close violently. At the moment the lock snapped in, something bumped against the door from the other side, giving a loud knock that made Raistlin jump. That had been a close one.

When he turned around the library was gone. Now, he stood in another place again which he immediately recognized as the common room of the grungy old inn he had visited during his test. In this very room he had met the dark elves. Not surprisingly, nobody was here besides himself. While he searched for an exit, he suddenly noticed the burning candles in the chandelier above his head. The only source of light. To his horror, they slowly went out one by one as if extinguished by an unseen hand. With each candle the darkness advanced, came closer. Where was the staff of Magius when you needed it? Unlike the latest 'dreams' it wasn't automatically with him. Panic arose in him when there were only three candles left and the clicking started again in the corners. That couldn't be his only option. Of course he didn't need the staff to produce a decent light spell. That was a beginner's class catechism. He fought for calmness but his soul had already succumbed to an overwhelming wave of utmost, shaking trepidation. A devastating, paralyzing emotion he remembered too well.

Only two candles left...

The clicking came nearer. With trembling lips he muttered the words of the spell. Everything went fine until he came to the last syllable. The last consonant. Which one was it? 'k' or 'g' Which one? He couldn't believe it, but all of a sudden he was confused with two options. His usually sharp memory was blurred by the tremor of panic. No, that mustn't happen now, he should easily overcome such a loss of self control. Especially with the firm governance of the soul that he had achieved during the last ten years. However, he realized, this time all was different. This time he was confronted with his most private and deepest fears. The darkness...

Only one candle left...

He needed to remember! Every child coud do it! 'k' or 'g'? Gods, how often had he used that spell? A thousand times? Probably more then a thousand times. The last candle flickered. He still couldn't come up with the right answer. This time not paralyzed in body but in mind. Meanwhile the last candle died with a subtle puffing. He was alone. With _them_.

The agonizing clicking had become louder each time a candle had been snuffed out. There must be hundreds of those beasts. He heard their little sharp legs on the floor. The clicking had grown so loud he couldn't even hear his own blood rushing through his veins anymore.

'The things I didn't want to see...' he realized.

What an irony of ironies. Raistlin Majere, the ambitious, promising archmage, would be killed in his own nightmare by his childhood phobia because he had not been able to cast a primitive light spell.

_'If your armor is made of dross...'_

Yes, finally Fistandantilus, the dark elves and even Master Theobald would get their revenge at last. And then, his foes had reached him...

--

TBC


	37. Light And Shadow It Takes Two

Hi guys. I'm sorry but I fell into the big Christmas hole and I still haven't climbed out of it yet. But I'm still alive.

**Ahn-Li**: You're such a mean person: Here I sit, giving my best to build a dark, creepy atmosphere of horror and mystery and you destroy all my efforts that with THAT comment. ROFL Well, thinking about your idea...I can still skip the whole thing into a parody and call it "Attack of the Sues" but... no... better not...

**Childlike Empress**: No, don't strangle me! Here it comes, here ist comes... (ggg) And happy Christmas to you, too.

**Guan**: This dream sequence just screamed for cliffhangers... ;)

**Humble Master**: Yup. I'm a blind Guardian Fan since I was 14 or so. If you like Blind Guardian, you will probably recognize the title of chapter 38 which will be "Journey Through the Dark" LOL By the way, most chapter titles here are song titles, that's like a running gag.

**Hilary**: Yeah, I tried to hurry. I didn't do too well, though...

**Dally**: "Poor ickle Raisty-poo"??? Oh my god, we definitely need another dose of Esgame. Its been way too long...

**singvogel**: Yes, I know what you mean. Christmas IS torture... at least the preparations. And yes, the title was referring to the BGs. (see above) LOL "Imaginations from the Other Side" was my first Blind Guardian CD. Did you know they also made a song about Raistlin?

**--**

**Chapter 37 - Light and Shadow - It Takes Two**

In the very same moment that Raistlin knew that his enemies had surrounded him leaving no chance for escape, when the panic had finally gotten the best of him; an abstract, scholarly part of his mind asked curiously what would happen to the girl when he died now. Would she be caught in this Mirror-world for the rest of her existence or would she simply wake up?

Not that it was of particular relevance; his own death would arrive in a few seconds but just for curiosity's sake it would have been nice to know. Slowly he sank onto his knees and succumbed to his unseen attackers. It seemed simply inevitable, now that he had failed. A tugging on his robe. A cold touch. The clicking was all over him now. Great. In the few fleeing seconds before death approached, people were expected to think of the deeds they had done or the persons they had loved. And he? He had found nothing better to think of then an annoying kender, Nima...

In the moment that his inner voice formed her name a nearby door opened and he heard the kender yell. Instantly the spook was gone and the candles burned lustrously in the candelabra as if nothing had happened. The tavern room was back. A wave of relief rushed over him when the girl approached him, her usual happy face shining brightly.

"Wow, Raistlin-mage. Every time I find you, you're lying somewhere. Did you make this a habit?"

"Where have you been?" Raistlin asked rising up from the wooden floor. He took some time pretending to brush off non-existent piles of dust from his robe. Only when he was sure that he was in full control of himself again did he raise his head.

Of course the kender needed no second invitation to tell him her point of view. For once her detailed prattle gave him the time he needed to regain his self-control. It seemed that her cheerful presence had rescued him a second time. No, he really didn't want to make this a habit. If he became dependent on a kender, he could likewise stab himself with his own dagger right away. The result would be the same. Anyway, she had worked twice as an effective weapon against his own subconscious. Meanwhile, Nima rambled on about her little adventure.

"Wow, I went through this door and I was in another floor and it was not very long, only some feet. And then I was in front of yet another door. But this was strange. I tried to pick the lock but it just didn't want to open. I ask myself if it was wizardlocked or something like that. I already thought about about giving up when I suddenly heard my name being called. I don't know. Did you call me? Never mind, at that moment the door opened by itself and I was here. But how can you be here too? Not I wasn't happy to see you but you were right behind me and I never turned back and now you're directly in front of me. That shouldn't be possible. Even for me that seems illogical."  
A bitter, resigned smile crossed his face at the fact that her chatter had already gained a consoling quality.

"That is simple." he answered eventually. "The house is moving."

"HA! I knew it!"

Raistlin had settled down again on the floor, legs crossed. It was high time he reasoned his way through the situation logically. The aimless opening of doors and search of rooms wouldn't get them further. So at least that much was clear now - the solution could not be achieved through physical means.

"Stay here." he commanded the girl. "Sit down and be quiet."

"Hey!" Nima complained slightly upset. "You're not my mama."

One dispraising gaze from the hourglass eyes and she found herself next to him on the floor in an instant. Though, not without crossing her arms in front of her chest and pouting demonstratively. Of course he totally ignored her. He always ignored her, except when she could do something for him or when he wanted to keep her from doing something. Apart from that he always behaved as if she was an ugly piece of furniture. She remembered his words.

'_You are not important_.'

Fine, if this was his usual way with people, it was quite obvious why he didn't have friends. Poor brother. It must have been hard with such a brat as a brother. Yes, Nima decided, nodding to herself, this man was a royal pain. On the other hand, he had a certain air about him. A dark kind of charisma she couldn't help but notice. It was the alluring beauty of a flame. You knew it would hurt you, but you couldn't stop putting your hand into it until it burned you. Just now, in that very moment that he sat in front of her, his looks were eerie and captivating at the same time. And for a reason she didn't understand, the sight of golden skin against black velvet made her want to cuddle him or at least stroke those high cheeks of his. Of course if she dared this, he would get angry at her since he didn't like to be touched at all. The idea was tempting, though. And only sitting here was so boring. If she flung her arms around him in the next moment, it was solely his fault. How could he expect her to sit still for so long? Stupid, creepy, attractive mage! Nima was about to ask herself when she had started to find human males, or rather, this particular human male, attractive, when his dark, rasping voice suddenly interrupted her thoughts.

"Balance." he muttered softly. "Balance is the key."

In the face of such enigmatic utterances, Nima instantly employed Kendermore's interrogative number one.

"Ha?"

He spoke. But he didn't address her, it was as if he still talked to himself.

"I was balanced. At least I thought I was. I believed I had banished the darkness within me. Now it seems that my balance was only an illusion, though. I need to get it back. I need to find a new form of balance which I hadn't contrived before."

He opened his eyes and faced her with a resolved expression that allowed no refusal.

"However, I can't develop this right now and so quickly. But fortunately that is not necessary. For now, I think I can manage with an external balance. You will be all I need."

Nima choked visibly.

"Now why in the Abyss doesn't that sound too good to me..." she muttered under her breath.

"You will not have to do much. I will call for the darkness and you will keep it at bay. Bright as your feelings are, that shouldn't be a problem. Then we both focus on waking up. Thus I will regain the control I need and you will be transported in your body- my body- again. We'll either meet in the globule or sleep dreamless until the morning. Though I would prefer the latter."

It sounded good. She hadn't understood what he had meant about her keeping the darkness away but it sounded like a plan. Nima liked plans. Plans were helpful during a crisis. And sometimes they even worked. Still, something disturbed her.

"That's a bit too easy, don't you think?"

"Too easy, kender? What do you expect? Don't ask for more trouble than you can handle."

"No, I do not ask for trouble. But I just thought that if it is your task to get your emotions in check again it feels like cheating if you use me for that. All you are doing is lying to yourself again. I mean, I'll help you gladly, but it's your quest."

"Oh, so now it is 'me' and 'you' again."

"No that wasn't what I meant-"

I know what you meant." he hissed. "But you are not aware of the consequences. As I said, this is not an average dream. Do you have any idea of what happens to us in the real world while we are trapped in here? No you obviously do not. Let me enlighten you, kender. What we're currently experiencing is likely a deep trance. Considered our raised temperature, our bodies compensate the absence of our minds with a feverish sickness. That means in fact, that I'm likely lying down with a fever. Probably after a physical breakdown. Due to the mental link between us you have been pulled into my vision and now share its effects. To whomever is with you, maybe Dalamar, it must appear as if you have fallen into a comatose state. I have seen the dangers of such trances before. We have no idea how much time we have already passed in that state. It can be hours or even days. Do you get the point, girl? After a day, our bodies begin to dehydrate and we will die from lack of water in about 72 hours. Maybe the fever is already a noticable result of dehydration. Even if we're cared for and they manage somehow to give us water, we will not get enough food to keep us alive! That will kill us over the course of some weeks! And before you ask, yes, it is easy to spend weeks in a state like this. I guess that we have a very good reason to hurry! If we wait until I make peace with my inner demons we can also just start crafting our tombstones! Any more things you want to add?" he finally spat at her.

"No!" she squeaked surprised. The idea of dying slowly didn't seem to be too appealing to her after all.

"Fine!"

"What do I have to do?"

"As I said, not much." Raistlin answered. "You will only have to sit down in front of me keeping in touch with me. That will make it easier for us to get our energies in tune with each other. You're a kender and you haven't done magic before, so you will likely find your concentration inadequate. However, I believe that I can make up for your lack of experience. Besides, due to the special circumstances we already should have achieved the necessary level of mental consonance. When we begin, I will call for the darkness and its messengers. I think that will happen more or less consciously."

He suppressed a sigh.

"You will notice the light to grow dim and finally vanish. When we're completely surrounded by darkness- mind you girl, this is important- you will probably hear a clicking noise and other sounds. They will become gradually louder. You will ignore them. You will ignore everything besides yourself. You will ignore even me, if necessary. All you have to do is just staying where and who you are. As long as your heart is pure they will not be able to touch us. If you feel that I tense or utter something, you will ignore it. You don't care."

He waited for her until she nodded hesitantly, showing that she had understood.

"Thus you will serve as my shield. You will enable me to get near to _them_ without giving them a chance to touch me. This is intrinsic. If you fail on this we both may get killed during the process. And if we die in here, return is not an option anymore."

Nima shivered involuntarily at the seriousness with which he spoke.

"You surely know how to motivate people, Raistlin." she retorted glumly. "You should consider a career as a priest."

Her response surprised him a little. Had the little kender just begun to grasp the concept of sarcasm? That could have been almost amusing had the situation been less grave.

"I've never claimed to be a patient teacher." he continued. "Anyway, with your help I can confront my foes and likewise be safe from their attacks. The knowledge that they cannot touch me will be enough to rebalance my own concentration and to snap out of this dream. The dream will end in that moment and we will be back were we belong. That's all. Not too complicated a task for you, I dare say."

Nima nodded. It sounded easy indeed.

"Who are _they_?" she asked after a while.

Raistlin, however, was not pleased with her question.

"That is not your concern. The less you know the less it can distract you. Just ignore everything you see and hear and we are fine."

They sat down in the advised position.

"Can we begin?" he asked when he had ensured that she knew her part in the ritual.

"We can." she answered trying to make it sound convinced. Suddenly the odd adventure had developed into a desperate struggle for life or death. Was it always like this with him?

TBC

OK, this will be continued next year, folks. But I hope you make Pet a little Christmas present anyway, and leave a review.

I wish you all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!


	38. Journey Through the Dark

**A/N:** I know its been a month or so. Yeah, I'm still alive. I apologize at everybody whom I neglected, lately. I just have so much to do... Anyway, Wishful Thinking is back, Thank you for reading and enjoy...

**Chapter 38 - Journey through the Dark**

Nima perched in front of a meditating Raistlin. As he had advised, she sat in front of him, facing him, her thighs barely touching his. It was an oddly intimate position, especially considering that fact that Raistlin kept insisting on - that they virtually total strangers. Apart from the meek contact of her knees against his, he didn't touch her. His sitting position looked not very comfortable. The knees bent with the calves tucked under the thighs, he sat on his heels, toes pointed, with the top of his feet flat on the floor. He held his back straight; a motionless hand lay on each thigh. His position was like one of those fighting monks from the high mountains to the far east. Nima had seen some old paintings of bald monks in orange robes in Naranja's wagon. Right now, Raistlin reminded her of them. He didn't twitch a bit. She, on the other hand, seemed to be unable to find a comfortable sitting position and squirmed uneasyly. She tried to copy Raistlin's posture, but after a while her muscles protested.

She couldn't tell what it was that disturbed her so, or why she was nervous again but the sight of his golden face didn't help to calm her. Again, she wanted to lean forward into him and relax in his arms, cuddling against the temptingly soft fabric of his clothing. Likewise it seemed not proper to do so and it would also distract him from his concentration or whatever he did. She knew by now how much he hated being distracted. So she stayed like she was; their physical contact reduced to an absolute minimum.

Their companionship was like a walk on thin ice. The more she was with him the more she had the feeling that every move she made or everything she said could easily elicit an angry reaction from him. Usually she didn't care for other's reactions so much but somehow this was different. He was different. He was the most stunning and complicated human she had ever met. And the most impolite and grumpy one. And she liked him. Was that true? Did she really like him? Could that be? Why? Suddenly he spoke with her and made her nearly jump.

"You are nervous, kender. I told you just to relax. You do the opposite. Why? Usually you kender take nothing for serious, don't tell me this situation frightens you."

No, of course she wasn't frightened. But how could she tell him the truth? That it was certainly not fear what she felt but another kind of tension and that he was the cause? For a moment, she earnestly considered telling him that. But her mouth had already reacted before her brain could come up with a proper answer. Stupid mouth!

"I can't relax if I have to sit like that as if I had a stick for a spine. It's not very comfortable." she said somewhat sullenly.

Is reaction was a sigh. He leaned forward and then she felt the golden arms close around her, drawing her nearer and into the embrace she had imagined before. Nima gave a startled choke and felt her cheeks burn from an inner heat that had sprung up in the moment he had put his arms her. Luckily he couldn't see her face. She had lowered her head quickly enough. Her breath run a little bit faster by now. Something was certainly wrong with the air.

"Don't get any ideas about that." Raistlin hissed while he drew her near. "And keep your fingers out of my pockets or I turn you into a frog."

Under normal circumstances, Nima would have had a witty remark. But normal circumstances didn't include this man's slender fingers folded on her hip, or sitting sideways on his lap, or the peculiar, confusing scent of spices and rose petals. And they didn't include sensing the golden mage's heartbeat next to her cheek either. So she kept silent and tried to adjust to the bewitching situation as best as she could. What did he want her to do? Ah, yes relax. She sagged against him and tried to do just that.

Raistlin frowned. For years he had not been so close to someone. This intimacy with another person felt odd. Though surprisingly not as disturbing as he would have expected. He noticed the kender's breathing frequency increasing a bit. Though she was small, her presence was strangely intensive; he could imagine her little fluttering heart pounding against her ribs. What was wrong with her? She couldn't really be frightened by his explanations. Kender were not capable of feeling fear. Raistlin remembered Tasslehoff still making jokes even when they had faced the black dragon. If it was not fear, then why in the Abyss was she nervous? After a while she relaxed. He suppressed another annoyed sigh.

"Better?" he asked instead, tying to figure out if she was ready now. She muttered an answer.

"Yes. More comfortable."

Her comment was rewarded with an ironic, astounded chuckle.

"Most people wouldn't regard this as a comfortable situation at all. The majority of people would find my mere touch rather disturbing."

"I'm not like most people."

"I know."

Nima was not sure whether this was a compliment or an insult. He had sounded slightly annoyed. She better had not ask him how he had meant the last statement.

"Do you still remember what you have to do?" he asked her in a lecturing tone. Nima nodded.

"Being my usual charming self. And not disturbing you and ignoring everything."

"Brilliant, kender. It was about time."

Nima ignored the taunt in his voice. Now that she had gotten used to the situation a bit, she began to enjoy the strange, fluttering, funny feeling this unexpected closeness gave her. He might do his concentration-thing, or whatever he wanted to do and she would just see what happened. Her usual cheerful mood was fully restored.

"Get on with it, man." she teased. "I don't want to spend the night like this with you clinging to me like that odd Freya-Lady. Boy, she sure was the touchy-feely type!"

Nima smirked up at Raistlin.

"Freya-Lady? Who..." He shook his head, contemplating. "No, I don't want to know. But I wouldn't be the one accusing me of clinging were I you."

Before Nima could answer anything, he silenced her with a low hiss.

"Stop now and be quite. It's about to begin..."

He stiffened a bit and stopped moving. As if he was expecting an ambush or something. And then, it happened just like he had said. First, the temperature fell a bit and a cold breeze roamed the large room. The candles in the lustre flickered and then the light grew dim. Was that what he had meant when he had said he would call the darkness? It was definitely an impressive trick. When most of the candles had expired, she could hear the strange noises he had warned her of. An eerie clicking and and whispering. It reminded her a little on the sound that heaps of dry autumn leaves gave when you shuffled trough them. It made her shiver. Something was coming. But who? Or what? Despite the mage's advice to ignore everything, Nima peered around curiously. But by now the candles had all gone out and the darkness hid the clicking strangers very well. She felt Raistlin tense when the clicking noise began and when it grew louder with each second he seemed to unconsciously draw her closer. Apparently he didn't like the clicking and whispering at all.

The noise increased until it rang in Nima's ears. The things must be very close. She could guess it by the way the mage tensed. The hands that lay on her hip clenched and he pressed her towards him probably without his notice. After a while it dawned to her. He was afraid. Despite his arrogance and sophistication, he feared these beings who came from the dark.

Poor humans. They were always afraid of everything for no reason. However, her companion didn't usually appear to be frightened very easily. These beings must be something special, something really terrifying.

He had ordered her to ignore him as well, but she groped for his cramped hands and stoked them softly. It was not more then just her fingertips caressing the golden skin, a touch as light as a feather.

"Shh..." she whispered against his chest. "They are just loud and annoying, that's all. That's what people say about us kender, too."

She couldn't see it in the darkness but she would have sworn that he had just bent his head a little towards her. Suddenly, there was the tingling sensation of his warm breath skimming over her forehead. Encouraged, she went on.

"We should have a word with them about being so loud. Did you know that the cousin of my great great great great great great great grand auntie-in-law, Uncle Trapspringer had a similar problem once in a particularly nasty jail? It was underground, you know, and there were at least thousand of rats and they were squeaking and weaseling all over the place. And everybody was afraid of them. Especially the female prisoners. They hated rats, says my papa. But Uncle Trapspringer, he just..."

She didn't know how long she discussed Uncle Trapspringer's adventures in the revolting, rotten ratcave of doom when he lowered his head a little and she heard a whisper in her ear.

"You are priceless."

--

tbc


	39. Welcome Home

Hi guys. I know its been nearly a month again... would you believe that I couldn't update because I was abducted by aliens? ... No?... Duh... at least it was a try...

Anyway, thanks for the supporting reviews. I'm glad that all of you like the way how everybody gets more emotional with each chapter. It took me quite a time to get to this point and once more it impresses me that you are still reading this long tapeworm of a neverending story. Have fun. ;)

**Chapter 39 - Welcome Home**

In the very same moment the noise stopped completely. The last thing Nima noticed consciously was the prickle Raistlin's breath caused on her temple.

Then, she opened her eyes. She was lying in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room. Dalamar sat on a chair next to her bed. He had slumped a little bit to the side and leaned to the wall. He looked like he had dozed off. Nima remembered what Raistlin had said, that she probably had been lying down with fever. Her throat was awfully dry. When she sat up to reach for a cup with water on the night stand, Dalamar's eyes snapped open, even though Nima hadn't made much noise. Elves must be light sleepers. For a moment, Dalamar stared at her in confusion. Then, his lips formed a slight, almost invisible smile.

"Welcome back, Shalafi."

Later she learned that she had been caught in the dream for about 48 hours. Like Raistlin had assumed, she had fallen into a strange kind of coma. Neither herbs nor magic or common medicine had helped in any way. For once, Nima kept her mouth shut about her adventures; it was enough for her to see the nice elf again and to still be alive. The whole situation was absolutely weird. Hopefully Raistlin had made it out of the Other Side, too.

Meanwhile...

The Teketoll's caravan was cramped with people. Nima lay on her bed, motionless most of the time. Occasionally she tossed and turned as if she had a bad dream. She had been like that for two days. Mrs. Teketoll had since then sat next to her unconscious daughter holding her hand and stroking her cheek. Even her husband's earnest pleading had not convinced her to leave her place to eat and get some sleep. Both kender parents looked gravely worried. They were accompanied by Lady Toronja and Hrongar. The fortuneteller and the elderly alchemist were the ones who knew most about illnesses. In the morning when Nima had simply not awakened, they had come and helped to nurse the unconscious girl likewise trying to console the anxious kender family. Of course the great mystery was what had happened to Nima in the woods. After Nima had fallen ill, Naranja and Tiomar had told their version of the story. The young gypsy heavily berated herself that she had let her friend alone. Like the kender, she was in a depressed mood.

Lady Toronja knelt next to Mother Teketoll and watched how Hrongar took Nima's wrist, checking on pulse and temperature. What ever happened to Nima, it went along with a fever that wouldn't weaken, despite cold leg compresses and herbal inhalations. The fortuneteller noticed that something must be wrong with Mother Teketoll because for five whole minutes she hadn't asked Hrongar if Nima had already gotten better. She had asked this question over and over since her daughter had fallen ill. Lady Toronja placed a reassuring hand on the kendermother's shoulder only to realize that the weary woman had finally dozed off. She turned and motioned silently at Mr. Teketoll. The kender came and carefully lifted his wife of her chair to bring her to another bed.

For the first time since Nima had fallen unconscious, Toronja and Hrongar had the chance to talk without being overheard.

"What do you think" The gypsy whispered at the alchemist.

He shoved a hand through his white hair, thinking.

"It is a very deep trance. Magical abilities, emotional distress and... What do they call it? Ah... yes... a latent gift for precognition caused this. But I hope that it'll be over soon." he scratched his head again. "I have seen this before, but I can't remember where. Hmm, my memory is not the best anymore... Did we already try the willowbark"

"Yes we did." Toronja answered. She shook her head. Hrongar's knowledge on herbal lore and illnesses was immense but his memory was rather unpredictable. Ah, the infirmities of old age. She guessed that Hrongar had been a mage earlier in his life, his white garments were cut like wizard robes. But the old man had never spoken about this and she had not asked him. Many people in the camp had their pasts. And most of them preferred to let it rest.

"How do you know that its precogni-"

They were interrupted by a soft moan from Nima. The kender turned her head in sleep, her face revealing pain.

"A bad dream." Hrongar said soothingly as he turned towards Nima ignoring Toronja's uncompleted question. "It's only a bad dream, my little friend."

But Nima did not react. The mind who occupied that body was too far away in its own world.

Hrongar stood up. His joints cracked in the process and he groped for his back.

"Ah, an old man shouldn't crouch like this anymore. I'm too old for this stuff." he lamented. But when Toronja made an effort to help him, he declined and instead patted her shoulder.

"It will soon be over, my dear." he murmured. "They will wake up and be safe, at least for the moment. Both of them."

"How do you know" the fortuneteller asked bewildered. She hadn't told anybody else of he mage's secret.

The alchemist shook his head meekly, but in his eyes she noticed a sudden sparkle of mischief while his lips turned to an amused smile. For a moment he didn't look as absent-minded as usual but like someone who knew exactly what was going on around him. And for the first time since she had met him about year ago, Toronja asked herself who that strange wizard was.

"I have to go." Hrongar said. "For the moment I can't help here."

Before Toronja could go on, Mr. Teketoll approached them.

Hrongar smiled.

"Your daughter will be better soon."

He spoke to the kender, but he seemed to look at the fortuneteller while he spoke, as if this was a joke only he and she could understand. His statement, however, helped to raise Mr. Teketoll's spirits. The kender had taken his wife's place. Toronja stayed at his side but she decided to face Hrongar at the next opportunity. She had to find out where his knowledge came from.

In the very moment when the caravan door closed behind the alchemist, Nima's eyes fluttered open.

Nima was weak and dizzy but she was conscious again. In a matter of seconds the kender were all wide awake. Concern changed to relief and the family rejoiced in having their eldest daughter back. One look into Nima's eyes revealed that the kender was still someone else. The mage. He nodded once at Toronja, a movement that was not noticed by the wagon's inhabitants. He had silently answered a silent question. Nima was fine.

Toronja realized that there was nothing left for her to do. Now it was up to the mage and the Teketolls to deal with everything. She sighed and left.

The next few hours passed for Raistlin in a confusing fashion. Mrs Teketoll was as motherly as always but most astoundingly, her behavior had lost some of its annoying quality. For the first time he experienced the situation through the kender woman's eyes. She looked exhausted and her cheeks were still red from crying. Involuntarily he asked himself how much sorrow and anguish a mother must feel seeing her child ill without a cure. He, at least, had been given the chance to fight for his life. But the kender must have been utterly helpless. Before he realized it, a short wave of pity overcame him. Of course he cut off the feeling instantly, but when Mr. Teketoll stroked his hair and pulled him into an embrace he let it happen. How would it have been to live in a real family? To be loved and to love? He couldn't remember Rosamun ever holding him like this or promising him too cook his favorite meal. To his own surprise, he leaned into the embrace and relaxed in the woman's consoling presence. In his own family he had often felt like a stranger. And here, in this wagon full of strangers he was closer to acceptance as he had ever been before. Of course this was just because they didn't know who he really was. They had not suffered on his behalf but on Nima's. That thought helped him to put the sentimental emotions aside. As usual, he pretended to be tired in order to keep his distance. Seeing him well and alive, the kender now allowed themselves to rest but they were discussing if somebody should keep watch over Nima in case she fell into a trance again. They were spared the problem by Naranja, who arrived with a basket of fruits. She offered to take the watch while the rest slept over at other places to give Nima the rest she needed. Naranja settled down next to him, looking concerned and saying nothing. A quick look in her face revealed that she also must have stayed awake for the last two days. He caught himself thinking that a beautiful face like her's shouldn't have dark rings under the eyes or pale lips. He held no romantic feelings for the gypsy but he had not been allowed to see beauty for a long time. Now, the sight of it seemed more precious then before. He admired it, just like one admired a skillfully painted picture or a lovely flower. And there was something else that confused him... Why did all these people cry over him and why, in Nuitari's name did it suddenly matter to him? Her voice startled him when she finally spoke.

"Is it my fault? I'm sorry for what happened in the woods."

The old game. He had played it with Caramon so often. He had hurt his brother and Caramon had apologized for it. Amazingly it worked also with Naranja. He had been mean to her. He had frightened her and even caused her to trip and fall. And she was the one apologizing... So much like Caramon. Having this power over his twin had given him the triumph of supremacy. The balm and bane of a bitter soul. To rule the emotions of another being and wield them like sand running through his fingers... No, suddenly he was tired of that game. Of all games.

He finally forced himself to speak. "It had nothing to do with you. I'm the one who should be sorry." It sounded a bit sullen but he had meant it.

She nodded, but her face showed no relief. Something else afflicted her. He waited patiently for her to speak. Where this patience came from along with a sudden flicker of sympathy, he couldn't tell. Maybe from the kender? Eventually Naranja spoke again fighting against tears.

"But tell me, what shall I do? Mother said nothing, she just advised me to be careful with you. But she didn't explain it. No one bothers to explain things to me. Is it because I'm just the stupid, inexperienced girl who knows only music well? I don't understand what happens around me, I just see that I'm loosing you. I'm loosing our friendship and whatever I do, it seems to be wrong. Why, Nima? Why? You are like a stranger to me. Whenever I think I got near to you, whenever I have the feeling to gain some understanding you cruelly push me away. What have I done? Is it me? Am I not good enough for you anymore, now that you seriously plan to become a wizard? I don't know. Tell me, please tell me what I did wrong."

He closed his eyes shortly. How could he answer to this?

"Friendships change." he said after a while. "People change. Its not your fault that I am what I am. I can not give you an explanation, nor can I tell you a simple way to return to innocence. It just the way it is. All you and I can do is accept it."

Cruel words, but they were true. And they were meant for another... And Caramon had never been able to understand this simple message. He still suffered for this inability. Could Naranja learn what his twin couldn't?

"I know it sounds harsh and you can't understand. I could pretend everything was fine but where would be the use of that"

She watched him silently, waiting to hear what he had to say. Finally she had lost typical her girlish fussing. Maybe she had also changed a lot during the last few weeks. In this second Raistlin made a decision. He wouldn't have thought it possible that something like this would ever come over his lips but maybe they both needed a second chance.

"While we can't repair what has been broken, we can still begin anew. Let's just pretend we were strangers and start this friendship again. Maybe we can find a way to cope with each other somehow."

He saw in her face that she still had thousand questions. Why he had had the breakdown in the woods or what kind of sickness he had, why her friend's character had changed so profoundly. Some days ago, she would have probably blurted out her questions like child. But now she just nodded and just kept them to herself, knowing that she wouldn't get answers anyway. For the first time she acted like an adult. Raistlin was impressed that she finally showed insight and self-restraint. Maybe the girl was not so annoying after all. Maybe he could even risk and tell her the truth some time. He smiled in the corner of his mouth. But not now...

Naranja relaxed a bit at seeing him smile. An all serious kender must have been a very disturbing experience. The next hours were passed in companionable silence. Finally, after Naranja had yawned three times in a quick succession he sent her home to sleep herself, assuring her that he was fine. She was already about to leave but halted.

"Oh, I had nearly forgot that." she said, slamming the back of her hand against her forehead. "Your mother gave this to my mother some days ago. Mother said you may want it back."

She pulled something out of the basket that had been placed under the fruits. Astonished, he took it. It was the spellbook. The Grimoire of Charlatanry. Why had the fortuneteller decided to give it back to him?

"She said I should tell you that it is the key and you would know what that means. I know, if time comes you will tell me, so I don't ask."

He was left alone with his questions since Naranja waved goodbye and left.

Something must be in that book. Something special. What did he miss? Maybe the next days would get more interesting than anybody could have expected.

-

So! By now you should know Hrongars identity! I couldn't get any more direct, could I? ;)

Mean spoiler for next chapter: Chapter includes Dalamar... Nima... and a very embarrassing confession... LOL

Oh, and if you like, look out for ESGAME. This will be updated soon.


	40. The Right Words

Hola Guys! Thank you for so much support.

Hilary: Yes, we try not to forget the ESGAME guys. The poor elves really need some help...

Ahn-Li: Good guess, but... um... I was not that clever... there is still somebody else. But in case you know it by now, Pssst! ;)

Childlike Empress: Sorry for the slow update frequency but in the future it will probably be one Chapter per month since recently I have a full schedule and I can't manage to write more.

Katherat: Yep. That's gonna be the romance I promised eons ago...

Guan: Really? Sad? Probably a bit melancholic... but nobody died! Not yet! (Ouch, I should keep my mouth in check.) Anyway, this chapter should cheer you up again. ;)

Lady Valura: Yeah, chapter 39 and 40 contain nearly no action but that will change in chapter 41, I promise. The plot will jump towards culmination from then on.

Singvogel: Könnte sein, dass du recht hast. GRINS

Dally: I fear, we two are too subjective about the "useful" hints on Hrongar because we already know.

Dream Unbeing: Thanks. :)

Sphinx12: Yeah, that's an old joke which doesn't have any meaning but for me. Apart from that I liked the sounding of the words. Maybe its also due to a certain anime-series I used to watch. Everybody is named after food there...

And now we give Dalamar a reason to cry over at the next ESGAME meeting...

**Chapter 40 - The Right Words...**

For Nima the evening and the night also held a lot of unanswered questions. When her mind cleared of the initial confusion one intrinsic question remained. Did she _like_ the mage? And how was it supposed to feel when one liked someone? Nima had never taken interest in any man before. She wished for Naranja to be there. Naranja always liked one boy or the other. And boys liked her. She could have told Nima how 'liking somebody' was supposed to feel. Having slept for two whole days, she stayed awake the rest of the day and during the night while Dalamar was resting. Nima passed hours in the solitude of her bedroom trying to think of home. But whenever she was in the middle of a memory her thoughts wandered to the golden mage and centred around him. Eventually the sun rose and Nima found that she had spent the whole night 'daydreaming' of Raistlin. A fact that made her dilemma even more obvious. And still she was unable to analyze her feelings. Maybe Dalamar could help? Not that he was her first choice in discussing tricky love-matters, but he was the only available person anyway. And besides, he had been so nice to her all the time. Maybe it was time to tell him what had really happened. Then, she wouldn't have to lie to him anymore. She had mistrusted him in the beginning due to all this blackrobed-ness and the dark wizardry stuff, but now she trusted him. So there was probably no use for a masquerade anymore.

Confident with her decision, Nima went for breakfast into the common room of the inn they recently stayed at. For once she was up earlier then her elven companion and spent her time waiting impatiently for him to appear. What would he say to her tale?

When Dalamar entered the common room his Shalafi was already fully awake and apparently waiting for him like somebody who had some urgent news to spread. Dalamar had barely sat down, noticing a rather dreamy expression on Raistlin's face when his Shalafi already opened the conversation.

"Dalamar I have to tell you something." he said gravely, just as Dalamar had anticipated. "I need your advice."

Something in Raistlin's voice and his expression startled the elf. Raistlin looked like somebody who was about to confess a private secret. He stared at Dalamar with what in any other case could have been interpreted as 'big puppy eyes' obviously searching for the right words. Looking cute was an ability little children had. Women, maybe. Even some men up to a certain point but it was not possible for Raistlin to adopt a 'cute' expression. Was it? Instantly, Dalamar remembered the housemaid's conversation some days ago.

_"They way he holds his head, or how he sits, I'm not sure, but it's a little bit girlish" _

What if the girls had been right? What did it mean then? Raistlin's next question was even more startling the his bizarre behavior.

"Dalamar, did you ever meet someone who was a total stranger to you but still you felt that he meant something to you?" he said slightly embarrassed. Stared intently at the table, 'Raistlin' missed the face of his apprentice growing slightly worried.

"Uhh.. No?"

Dalamar was at a loss of words. The situation could only be described as utterly weird. What was Raistlin talking about? They hadn't met anybody these days. And the only 'stranger' he was with was Dalamar himself. The elf choked. Was Raistlin perhaps talking about him? But that made no sense at all. It sounded too... private... too emotional... to have something to do with their relationship. However, other incidences came to mind in an instant. When Raistlin had gotten drunk in Palanthas, he had had a certain expression in his eyes. A stare that a man shouldn't have in his eyes when he looked at another man. At that time, Dalamar had ascribed this to his Shalafi's extreme intoxication, but suddenly he was not so convinced about that anymore...

"Oh, but well, see..."

Raistlin went on, oblivious to Dalamar's alarmed expression.

"What would you say if I told you that I have met somebody who is very different then me. I barely know him... But I think I may develop an affection..."

At these words, Dalamar's doubt developed to a light panic. Raistlin had mentioned a certain 'him' and 'affection' in the same sentence. There was no way to deny it. His Shalafi definitely spoke of a male. That could only mean... NO! But, regarding how Raistlin had changed since the accident, nothing seemed impossible anymore. Mercilessly, Raistlin went on, thus causing Dalamar to feel utter mortification.

"I think I should tell you a secret. I've been hiding it for too long..."

'Please, gods. Have mercy. Let my die. Now!'

"Maybe time has come to lay the cards open." Raistlin decided. "I trust you now very much. I should probably have told you this much earlier, but you have to understand, everything is confusing and so complicated and I have no idea where to begin. Something like this never happened to me before and was so unsure about everything when I realized what had happened to me. But I don't want to lie to you anymore, Dalamar. Speaking honestly, I fear that I have to admit that I am-"

In this moment, Dalamar rushed to his feet nearly knocking down his chair in the process. His Shalafi watched him dumbfounded. But the elf had decided he couldn't bear this distressing discussion any longer.

"No, Shalafi! Certain things may not return to what they are now if you speak further. There is a limit! You know, Shalafi, I accepted your sudden change of religious preference, I tolerated your fatal liking for alcoholic beverages, I even said nothing when you developed kleptomaniac tendencies two days ago by picking the mercenaries' pockets, but too much is too much. That's it! After I brought you to Solace we both will part! But you will keep your secrets to yourself as far as they are concerning me! If you insist to go on with this, we'll part right here and you can find your way on your own!"

After this outburst, Dalamar took a deep breath struggling for calmness. He hadn't meant to show his irritation so openly, but apparently this trip and his Shalafi's derangement had marked his own psyche as well.

Raistlin looked at him thunderstruck totally lacking understanding of what was going on.

"Ahh... well, ok." he said after a while. "I didn't know this would bother you so much. If you say so... But, but... I'm NOT A KLEPTOMANIAC!"

In the meantime Dalamar's discomposure had turned to anger.

"Tell that to my spellcomponents!" he hissed and stormed out of the inn to saddle the horses before Raistlin could change his mind and complete his confession. What had gotten into his Shalafi's mind to put them both into such an abashing situation! He, Dalamar, had been showing more patience then anybody, especially Raistlin, deserved. Madness? Fine, well, that could happen... But there were limits! And Raistlin had just crossed them. If this was only a bad joke, Raistlin would pay for it. If not... Dalamar had no idea what to do then. But the idea of teleporting to Solace became suddenly more appealing that ever. Raistlin's mental condition had not improved. If anything it had declined. A teleport would bring him much quicker into a familiar environment, where his family could take care of him. Then it wouldn't lie in his hands alone anymore and Raistlin would be distracted from the emotions he recently discovered. Yes, maybe a teleport was in order...

Due to his quick leave, the elf missed his Shalafi sitting motionless on the table for a while, blinking and finally blurting out:

"WHOA! BIGGIES CAN BE SO ANNOYING! I KNOW, LATER HE WILL SCOLD ME BECAUSE I DIDN'T TELL HIM EARLIER! BIGGIES ARE SUCH CONFUSING PEOPLE!"

TBC

(My career as a slash-writer ended before it got started, eh? ROFL)


	41. At the Inn of Last Home

A/N: Hey guys. Thanks for the constant support, I try not to keep you waiting too long for the updates. Here it goes...

**Part 41 - At the Inn of Last Home**

It was already after sunset when the two hooded figures made their way through Solace. Though Solinari shone brightly in the sky this night, he hid his silver face behind a veil of thick clouds and the night was nearly as dark as if Nuitari ruled the firmament alone. One of the nighttime passers-by was lost in silence, while the other chattered endlessly.

"...and just look at the rooftops. They are cute. So wooden and cozy. Everything in here is so cute. I never thought my hometown was like that. I just wish it was day so I could see everything clearly. How can people live in trees like that? I always thought that only Elves would- oh... sorry Dalamar- but anyway, it looks so strange and everything here smells so nice and I hope we find the inn soon, since I really need a nice warm meal, and a- Hey, watch your step, Sir!"

Not caring where she went, Nima suddenly crashed into a large human male who seemed to have just appeared out of the dark. The stranger mumbled an excuse as well as Nima. She noticed the typical odor of beer surrounding the man. He must have consumed a lot of that stuff and was probably drunk. Which could only mean that he knew where they would find the inn they were looking for.

"Ah... Sir." Nima asked him politely, ignoring Dalamar's expression of dismay at the sight of a drunken human. "Do you happen to know where we can find a tavern called the Inn of Last Home?"

The stranger muttered an answer, the alcohol slurring his speech.

"Th' Inn of Last Home y'say, why tha's my-"

In that moment the cloudcover tore open and silver moonlight slid over the three men in the alley. The sight of Nima's face induced a very astonishing reaction from the stranger. His eyes widened and he blinked flabbergasted as if he had seen a ghost. He grabbed for his heart.

"Raistlin?" he whispered unbelievingly before he fell to the ground, unconscious.

Nima could only stare open mouthed.

"I didn't do it!" she cried eventually.

Though it was already late, the Inn of Last Home was filled with customers tonight. It was only three days until the annual summer fair, a small version of the harvest fair. Traders of the region would come and sell their wares, and there were rumors about a group of jugglers coming to the fair. For the tavern owners this was a time of hard work and great profit. All of the inns were already nearly booked for several days in advance.

Tika Waylan Majere sighed. She drew beer after beer and suppressed a yawn. She had been busy all the day and only wanted to fall into her bed. From time to time she glanced nervously at the door. She hadn't seen her husband since the morning when he had left to run his questionable "errands". Where was he and would he even come home his night? Her question was answered sooner than she had expected when the door opened and revealed Caramon's large stature. But in what condition he was in. He was barely able to keep himself erect and if it weren't for two strangers supporting him, she doubted he would have made it up here. The two men who accompanied her husband wore dark cloaks hiding their faces and their equipment. However, one of them carried a mage's staff on his back. Something about that object was familiar but she couldn't get a good glimpse of it, since the two men were engaged in placing Caramon on the next bench. Hastily, Tika left her place behind the counter to approach the strangers and thank them for their help. She would have a word with Caramon later. The other customers had already begun to stare and the situation was embarrassing enough.

However, Tika stopped cold when one of the men, made a gesture as if to wipe of sweat from his forehead and in the process lowered his hood. White hair framing a golden face. The firelight reflected by amber and dark hourglasses. Finally Tika recognized the staff and it's owner.

Raistlin turned to the other man that had arrived with him.

"Boy, that was exhausting, that guy weighs a lot!" he exclaimed rather loudly, causing the patrons at the next tables to look at him. Then he bent down to Caramon.

"Hey, man are you all right?"

That was the moment when Tika moved again. Only second later she stood right in front of Raistlin facing him, hand in her hips.

"What do you want here?" she hissed. "I can't believe you even dare to come here after all you did!"

Raistlin's expression lacked understanding.

"Err... Lady, there was no sign outside forbidding people to come in. Not that I would particular care about such signs, it usually just means that people want company but don't know how to get some. And by the way, why should people not go to an Inn?" he chattered innocently. Which was, of course, disturbing. The mere idea of Raistlin conversing about such a topic was highly absurd. Tika asked herself frantically what underlying purpose Raistlin might have to appear now and in such a manner. Most astoundingly, Raistlin hadn't stopped talking yet.

"You see, we met this man outside and he suddenly wasn't feeling well and we decided we'd better bring him home and-" he began a confused explanation but Tika interrupted him before he could go further. Anger rose within her and quickly superseded Tika's fear of his powers. Of course Caramon was not feeling well, and most of it was Raistlin's fault! He must have been fully aware how his cruel letter would affect his twin, she was sure of it! How could he dare to show up now and pretend that all this didn't involve him?

"Home? YOU decided to bring him home? What sick joke of yours is this, Raistlin? Does it make you happy to torment my husband?" she cried.

Raistlin looked utterly astonished.

"Excuse me Lady, do we know each other?"

That was too much. The sorrow and distress of the last months culminated when Tika's frustration finally had found a target. Archmage or not, nobody made fun of Tika Waylan-Majere in such an arrogant fashion! The customers who had this night chosen to attend the Inn of Last Home knew their money was well invested, when they suddenly watched the spirited, temperamental young owner slap the white haired newcomer into the face. The sound of Tika's flat hand against the man's right cheek could be heard all over the suddenly very silent common room. Every pair of eyes in the room focused on Tika and the stranger. No word was said. Tika looked at her hand as if she couldn't believe what she had just done. The white haired man obviously fumed. He turned around violently addressing the other person who accompanied him. So far the second stranger had watched everything silently, a quiet shadow in the corner.

"She slapped me! Dalamar, fireball her!"

The archmagus' tone reminded Tika of a young child having a temper tantrum. The other man had not discarded his hood, his face was still hidden behind it and he didn't move an inch, but his calm, sonorous voice held a mark of resentment when he answered.

"I'm your apprentice, not your 'spell-casting slave', Shalafi."

"Awww!"

His comrade clenched his fists in frustration. He turned around to Tika again.

"Lady, you are so lucky," he said angry. "that I can't spellcast right now! Is this a proper way to treat people? I found your drunkard of a husband on the street and I decided to bring him up here and I wanted to help and all I get from you is a slap! What strange habits you have in this city!"

He had become louder with each word. Tika responded equally loud.

"WE have strange habits? That coming out of YOUR mouth is the joke of the year!"

"LADY! BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU SAY!"

"OR WHAT? WILL YOU THREATEN TO DESTROY ME? YOU ALREADY DESTROYED OUR LIFE!"

"YOU ARE A VERY SICK GIRL-"

At that second both quarreling parties felt a strong hand on their wrist. Unnoticed by them, Caramon had suddenly uplifted himself and grabbed their arms.

"Tika? Raistlin? What is going on?" he asked slowly.

That was the moment when tears welled up in the young woman's eyes and she began to cry heartbreakingly.

"Looks like we chose a very unfavorable moment to introduce ourselves in Solace, Shalafi." Dalamar whispered into his master's ear, while a dumbfounded Caramon consoled a crying Tika.

"I don't speak to you, traitor." Raistlin hissed sullenly.

Dalamar raised an eyebrow. After 'the incident' he hadn't seen Raistlin showing any sign of negative emotion or aggressiveness. But since his sudden fever, his Shalafi's moods had gradually become more and more erratic until Dalamar had finally decided to shorten their trip and teleport them to Solace. The elf was not sure whether this new change of behavior was for better or worse. Probably worse, because it made his master even more unpredictable. He was cheerful and charming most of the time but when he felt neglected or provoked, he developed a tendency to go up the wall. Just like now. So far he only flipped out verbally but who could say how long it would stay this way? If he had truly wanted Dalamar to harm the woman... it was as if Raistlin was slowly falling back into his former personality but without his iron self control keeping his emotions in check. Krynn could only be thankful that he hadn't remembered his spells yet.

It was time to end that embarrassing scene and come to a conclusion. The woman was obviously at the end of her nerves, the man was helplessly drunk and his master was about to make things even worse. As usual. Since nobody else appeared to take the matter into his hands, it was up to Dalamar to handle the situation. He sighed inwardly. If he had known where this apprenticeship would lead him, he was not sure if he would have taken the assignment. Dalamar simply discarded his cape, revealing not only his Elven nature but also his black robe. Some people hissed, appalled. Dalamar stepped right between the tables and cast a warning glance in all directions, while a cynical smile crossed his face.

"Dear guests of this house." he said politely, "my master and I would _prefer_ it, if you could take your leave _right now_... I assure you, we would really _appreciate_ that."

The last sentence was accompanied by a flame appearing casually in his hand.

To be continued...

**A/N**: You know that scene don't you? I remember somewhere in the first chapters, I promised this event. Anime fans can also add multiple frying pans to the "action scene" in their imagination. ;) Dally and I certainly did!


	42. Just Because You're Paranoid

Thanks to all you lovable reviewers. Before I leave for a post-easter holiday trip, I proudly present to you the new chapter. Finally, the plot decided to show up once more. Hope you enjoy it, even though practically nothing happens. I call this necessary character development. ;D Eventually some explanations are found, but just like in real life, I fear this probably leaves more questions then before. (big grin)

Petalwing

**Part 42 - Just because you're paranoid...**

Now even the slowest mind got the message. The room emptied in a few moments. Finally, only Otik, the Majeres and their special guests were left.

Tika glanced acidly at her brother-in-law while Otik took it upon himself to bring Caramon to the Majere's sleeping quarters. The task was not easy and had acquired Dalamar's help.

For several minutes Tika and Raistlin were alone. The young woman felt ashamed at her outburst. Her husband's twin was the least person to show feelings to. For him knowledge was a weapon and he would always use it to his own advantage. Tika distracted herself by clearing the tables while she observed the mage with barely hidden mistrust. Raistlin pretended not to take notice of anything; he studied an old picture on the wall. He stood right before it, staring intensely at it, back turned to Tika. A sullen silence filled the room. From what she had experienced in the past, Tika knew that Caramon's brother would probably stay like this for the rest of the night, avoiding conversation until he was addressed directly. Inside of her, pride struggled with curiosity. A part of her demanded to know what had made him come to Solace again, another part refused to even look openly at him. Sideways glances were all her dignity allowed. With her concentration focused on the late guest, she missed a jug that a patron had left on the edge of a table. It clashed loudly on the floor making Tika jump and Raistlin turn around. Tika hissed a curse that would have made even Otik blush and spun around to get a broom from behind the counter. To her great amazement, Raistlin had reacted even more quickly and hastened for the needed tool.

"Wait, I can help!"

With unexpected agility he moved and handed Tika the broom. She took it, confused. In the meantime Raistlin seemed to realize whom he had just assisted and crossed his arms sullenly.

His strange behavior puzzled her and finally, between two strokes of the broom, she addressed him in a neutral tone.

"So why did you come here?"

He looked at her, unbelieving. Maybe he tried to figure out whether her question would initiate another outburst of anger but when she just kept sweeping, he shrugged.

"That's a long story. I was- I'm not- no... Dalamar said it would help..." he stuttered, very un-Raistlin-like. Her question seemed to have surprised him. For a moment he hesitated as if contemplating which lie to tell.

"I lost my memory in an accident." he finally stated with a resigned expression.

Tika nearly dropped the broom. She turned and watched him, flabbergasted. Either he had become an absolutely brilliant actor or that explained a lot...

"Completely?" she asked after some moments of stunned silence.

He nodded.

"But you still know who you are?"

"I know what Dalamar told me."

At that moment, Dalamar and Otik reappeared. It took another hour to explain the whole situation to Tika and her foster-father. Most of the explaining was done by Dalamar. Raistlin kept staring at the floor irritably, kneading his fingers. It was already late, and they couldn't solve the situation so they decided that the mages would stay until the next day, then the twins would have to talk, and then a decision would be made.

Later, when they had eventually all retired into their respective rooms or guest chambers, Nima lay awake in the dark. Her anger at the tavern owner had vanished. Mostly. The evening had been very irritating. She had never been that angry at someone before. It didn't fit her personality, and it felt odd.

Besides, she was not happy with the lie she had spread again. She had made up the stupid lie in a situation of desperate need but with each day, things became more complicated. The whole I-am-Raistlin-disguise became harder to keep and by this time the game had lost its fun.

It was just like Hrongar always said, if you started to lie one lie would spawn the next until the lies controlled your life and things got out of your hands. Nima had the strange feeling that this was about to happen right now. Back in the tower this had all seemed like a very good idea, but now... After whole strange incident with the Tika-Lady she had begun to realize that diverse unknown emotions and feelings were involved in this whole affair. And human emotions were so incredibly complicated! When she had been in the camp, a happy kender, idling around, she had never had to deal with so many depressing, complicated matters. Things like this had simply not existed in her world before. But now, odd emotions practically appeared out of nowhere and tackled her. And this was all biggie-thinking, not kender-thinking...

Suddenly it dawned to her.

She was turning human! She was beginning to think like a human and maybe she was even beginning to feel like a human. Was this really she, Nima Teketoll, lying awake, analyzing herself? No! That was Raistlin-way, not Nima-way. And now she even analyzed her analysis... Nima banged her fists on the mattress. This had to stop! 'Sleep' she commanded herself. But sleep would not come. Nervousness. She had never known that feeling before. It felt strange. Alien. Eerie. What happened to her? Where had her life gone?

'I'm turning human. I'm turning human!' That terrible, horrifying thought made her shiver...

Miles away from Solace, another one lay awake just like her. Raistlin couldn't find sleep. Though everybody around him slept profoundly, all he could think of was the grimoire's secret. He had dwelled on that matter since Naranja had handed him the book. What had the fortuneteller meant with her mysterious utterance about the book being the key? The key to what? The spells were clearly not even worth a minute of study, the material was not particularly interesting, and it was not enchanted either, he had checked on that twice. So what did he miss? All in all it was a simple spellbook. A beginner's catechism. Certainly not more. Every student of the arts could probably posses such a book. But he had no hint about the owner anyway, since the book contained no dedication or another personal inscription.

He stumbled over that thought. Maybe he had just not looked closely enough. If this copy of the notorious grimoire had indeed belonged to a true follower of the art, maybe the former owner had left an inscription. Students of the magical arts mostly studied the ways of alchemy in addition. And for an alchemist there were methods of smuggling invisible notes onto parchment. That could be the reason why his detecting spells hadn't found anything. He had looked so desperately for magically enchanted messages that he had left out one of the most obvious possibilities. Simple alchemy. Raistlin grimaced at himself. The last years of intricate study had set his mind on highest levels, he tended to forget the basics. Maybe he had to adopt a bit of Nima's easy little kender attitude. He was caught in a kender's world for now, so he had better start thinking a bit like one in order to find his way... Only a tiny bit of course. Just so much that it was useful.

And he would start right now with it. If the hypothetic alchemist had left a message there, then most likely hot water was all he needed. That could be easily found in the caravan's kitchen. Raistlin arose silently, to avoid awakening the family. Oh how simple it was to sneak if you were a kender. For once it seemed quite practical to be in a kender's body. Just to be secure, he cast a sleeping spell over his roommates before he lit the stove to heat some water in a pot. When the first smoke circled over the heated liquid, he took the grimoire and carefully held the first page into the smoke. A lightspell ensured that he would not miss one single letter of the supposed inscription.

And indeed, some words appeared on the page that hadn't been there before. He let out a deep breath and only then realized that he had kept it. It was the clear handwriting of a skilled writer. Raistlin smirked in triumph. Finally, a useful hint. His satisfied smile froze instantly at the sight of the hidden message.

_"For my dear friend Orsany, in remembrance on the sweet days of yore and the light hearted life of two zealous young students. Old friend, this amusing document, unexpectedly finding its way into the hands of the ever ardent adept, will fit your collection perfectly. _

_At Your Service, _

_Fistandantilus."_

Shocked, Raistlin let himself fall on the next chair. The thoughts whirled in his mind. That surely was unexpected. Fistandantilus? Orsany? Days of yore?

A picture formed in his mind of two young mages sharing a room at their master's house. Colleagues, maybe even friends. They still had not chosen their paths. Together they practiced alchemy and tried their first spells. This was either a very bad joke or... or...

Orsany had been a contemporary of Fistandantilus and the two mages had known each other. The grimoire must have belonged to Fistandantilus who, for some reason, had given it to Orsany, maybe as a personal joke among old friends. And that meant... If Orsany had studied together with Fistandantilus, and if they had been equals...

In that case, Orsany _could_ probably have produced something as complex as the crystals. Moreover, Nima's crystal half had come with the book. So, Orsany definitely had something to do with it. That couldn't be coincidence. Father Teketoll had mentioned that he had "acquired" the stone and the book from a mage. Who would probably posses both a book that had only some sentimental value for Orsany himself _and_ a part of his powerful artifact? Only... only...

Raistlin felt his blood leaving his face.

If another experienced mage had gained possession of the crystal what would he want with a practically worthless spellbook? And if anybody owned this grimoire to study from it, he was certainly no match for the secret of the crystal. The only person for whom it made sense to keep both the book and the crystal was... the original owner himself. But that couldn't be! Orsany had died long ago! And even if he still existed, he would certainly not allow himself to be robbed by a kender like Teketoll. That made no sense at all. Teketoll had mentioned that the book had fascinated him. And the gem had come with it just by chance...

Raistlin inhaled his breath audibly in a second of shocked recognition.

What if this all had been planned? What if? Mr. Teketoll had acquired the stone much too easily for Raistlin's taste. What if somebody had wanted him to have it? This someone had just to make sure that Teketoll would steal something more interesting that came along with the stone. Something that promised magical secrets to the curious kender but was of no real worth to a skilled mage. Like a worthless spellbook for instance, which was no real loss but the kender would take it eagerly...

And what if the same person arranged it so that a powerful ambitious mage, who had a reputation for seeking power at all costs, like a certain archmage from the tower of High Sorcery in Palanthas for example, got hold of the other half of the crystal? What if this certain someone likewise ensured that this very archmage also got wrong information about the crystals and their purpose by spreading a legend about two parts of a wish? Wouldn't this ideally lure a high level mage into activating the artifacts? And what if the wish that Raistlin had sensed in the stone before, had already been bound and formed? What if his, Raistlin's, wishing spell had never gone wrong at all, because it had never been cast? Instead, by formulating his command, he had instead triggered an utterly different wishing spell that had been cast long ago.

What if the whole affair was in truth a gigantic, very intelligent, long-prepared trap? A paranoid conclusion, but suddenly everything made sense. Several loose ends had just come together and formed a complex web of intrigue and high-level-magic.

Orsany... in that case naming the artifacts "Orsany's Wish" had been more then sarcastic. Indeed, the mysterious stones fulfilled the will of their creator and Raistlin had actively helped so serve the mage's ends. Oh yes, such a complex plan would definitely match even Fistandantilus cruel schemes.

Only three questions remained now. Was Orsany still alive? And if Orsany was still alive and this was his doing, then what was the final intent? Furthermore, if Orsany planned something involving him and Nima, wouldn't he come to watch? Raistlin remembered the beholder all too well. Oh yes, Orsany had observed them from the beginning on. And he, Raistlin, had not realized the real threat earlier.

Raistlin scowled. Orsany might be a genius in the creation of artifacts. He might be a highly skilled mage. But he had made a mistake when he thought that Raistlin Majere would let himself be manipulated that easily. He would meet Nima soon, get her half of the stone and find a way to undo this. Meanwhile he would look out for Orsany and his creatures.

'I will find you, Orsany.' he swore to himself. 'And then I will make you impart the secrets of your art before I take what should be mine and send you to your old friend Fistandantilus.'

At the other end of the room, Mother Teketoll turned in her sleep. Quickly, Raistlin turned out the stove and eliminated all traces of his nightly activity before he slipped under his blankets once more. Finally, he had solved the book's secret, but he didn't feel satisfied in the least.

TBC


	43. Family Reunion

**A/N**: Thank you very much for your support and comments, dear readers. Thanks for feeding the author. And hello to all newcomers! Enjoy. :)

**Part 43 -Family Reunion**

When the cock crowed, greeting the first rays of light at the horizon, Tika was already awake and in the kitchen. Part of her asked herself if she had just dreamt the events of the last evening, but everything had been too real to be a dream. What would the morning bring? Sighing, Tika prepared the breakfast and worried over her husband and his sinister twin while the common room filled with hungry customers.

Dezra, the maid, noticed that the lady of the house was in an irritable mood and her mood became even more strained when the newest guest appeared in the common room wearing a black silken robe. Yawning, he sat down at a table and looked at Dezra curiously with a tentative grin that said "Won't you give me food?" He shoved white a strand of hair behind his ear. Dezra smiled inwardly at the stranger who somehow belonged to the family. She had only heard rumors of the wizard Majere. Gossip had it that he was evil and lived alone in a tower that was pure blasphemy to all gods, except the evil forces of darkness. Right now, he didn't look evil or dangerous at all. In spite of his unnatural skin color he looked quite handsome. Dezra felt her mistress' scrutinizing look at her back when she served the mage a proper breakfast. He thanked her politely and smiled warmly at her. The maid returned the smile tentatively and pretended to ignore the slight scowl on her mistress face. As far as she was concerned he was a proper guest of this house. Nobody had told her otherwise. What was wrong about serving him breakfast? Now that he was right in front of her, he was even more attractive. His hourglass eyes seemed to hold a secret mystery a lively sparkle accompanied them. His lips loooked soft and-

"Dezra!"

Tika's call brought Dezra back to reality. Hastily she muttered an excuse and hurried back to the kitchen. Tika had watched the flirt curiously until she had decided that Dezra had better not set any interest on Raistlin. There were many better choices in company, Tika was sure, but only a few who were worse. Still it was astounding, she had never realized that Caramaon's twin could be quite charming if he chose to. And since when did Raistlin even know polite manners?

A few minutes passed and Raistlin's elven apprentice joined his table. Until yesterday, she hadn't even known that Raistlin had taken an apprentice and it seemed atypical that he would share his magic with somebody else. Still, if someone such as Raistlin had accepted the elf, this Dalamar must be quite a "darling". Meanwhile the breakfast hour went by and most people had already left the inn for their diverse businesses in town. Raistlin was already at his second meal and still ate with great appetite. Something in the way he treated his dish reminded her of Caramon.

The latter chose this moment to appear in the common room. Now their happy little quartet was complete. Dalamar leaned back and crossed his arms, waiting for the others' reactions. Raistlin looked expectant. Tika kept her breath for a second. Who could say how Caramon would react, now that he was sober. She noticed Dezra peering at them from behind the kitchen door. Whatever they all had expected, none of it happened. Caramon just went over to where his brother sat.

"May I join you?"

Raistlin nodded.

"Sure."

Apparently Caramon remembered what had happened the last evening, he didn't look surprised and acted at if it was quite usual that the evil twin came over to pay a visit. At first, all Caramon did was watch his brother, until Dezra brought him another dish. Then, both Majeres were occupied with the food. Seeing them both eating together was strange. For the first time in years, Tika realized that these two were twins indeed. Their movements, their way of stuffing bread and cheese down their throats was so similar that it was frightening. The elven mage seemed to notice that also. He raised an unbelieving eyebrow.

"Its good that you finally eat in a proper way, Raist." Caramon said after he had satisfied the first hunger. Raistlin looked up.

"Boy, it's like there is some strange fire within me that burns all the food instantly." he explained. Caramon nodded.

"Yes, Raist, I know what you mean. Its the same with me. People don't understand. They say, I eat to much but, well guys like us we just have to eat a lot. I always told you so. Finally you're beginning to put up some weight on your ribs, that's good."

They kept up some meaningless conversation about proper nutrition until Raistlin finally hesitated slightly and changed the topic.

"You are my brother?" he asked in a cautious tone, causing the warrior in front of him to halt. Slowly Caramon nodded. A shade of worry crossed his face briefly.

"Tika told me your memory has been damaged. Is that true? You cannot remember us? Not even me?" A pleading tone had crept into the warrior's voice.

His twin shook his head. To Caramon's surprise, he didn't look as if he cared much.

"Its all gone. Blank."

Raistlin did something Caramon had seen him do only once or twice in his live. He grinned.

"Anyway, that's not a real problem. We're already working on it. My friend Dal over here suggested we'd go and visit you since being with family could help in restoring the memory and so."

Raistlin kept on smiling brightly and innocently which looked odd in the eyes of everybody who knew him. Something in his expression suddenly reminded Caramon of Tasselhoff. Raistlin's behavior strangely resembled the manner of Tasselhoff when the kender had been up to something. It was in certain respects scary.

Raistlin's elven companion frowned at being called 'Dal' but didn't say anything. Apparently he was used to Raistlin uttering such sort of things.

"Well, Raistlin, of course you are welcome here." Caramon said, ignoring the fact that Tika behind the counter rolled her eyes. "People need their family. None can stand without them. It was right of you to come here."

Raistlin nodded approvingly.

"I know. Family is everything. Well, Dal said we need to spend time together. Sitting and talking is boring. What do we do today?"

Caramon blinked in surprise.

"You want to spend time with me?" he muttered unbelievingly as if Raistlin had just insisted that pigs could fly.

"Yes. Why not?" was the innocent reply.

The big warrior could only half believe it. Raistlin wanted to be with him? Voluntarily? No matter how absurd that was, one thing was clear. Raistlin was in trouble. And he had asked Caramon for help. Of course that help wouldn't be denied. Maybe that was Caramon's chance to make Raistlin realize how much they needed each other. They were twins. Never would he turn his twin away.

"Well, I'm not doing anything interesting. I need to go to town to buy foodstuff from our suppliers." Caramon said, hesitating. He doubted that his brothers sudden interest in company went so far as to share the daily business of tavernowners. Raistlin's answer surprised him once more.

"Oh, to town? Great! I want to see the town! Show me around! Lets go!"

The mage jumped up from his chair with an unusual amount of agility.

Moments later Raistlin was already at the door, yelling at Caramon to hurry and nearly stumbling over Raf, the gully dwarf. Raf stared at Raistlin with large eyes. Tika buried her face in her hand. Obviously she had just resigned at what seemed inevitable. Maybe she also couldn't believe what she had just seen and heard. Caramon cast an insecure glance at the elf who hadn't shifted his position since the beginning of their conversation.

"Has he always been like this? After... after he..."

For some reason, Caramon couldn't finish the sentence. The elf nodded, though.

" You mean after the _accident_? Yes. Most of the time. "

"You have seen him before? _This_", he pointed at Raistlin who stood in the door taping his foot, "is a total change, as if he was another person. He looks like my brother, yes. But every word he speaks, every move he makes seems to come from a completely different soul."

"By all means of magic, I made sure he is my master, your brother, Warrior Majere. I assume this change in personality is a result of a mental exertion, caused by a fatal circuit of magical energies in one of my Shalafi's experiments. I expect that reacquainting him with familiar faces and surroundings will quicken the process of regaining his memory ."

Dalamar tried to explain the facts in easy words, so the addressee would understand. He hoped to clean his voice from every sign of desperation. If the twin refused to take charge of his Shalafi, he was probably in charge of the erratic archmage again. And in long terms, this would only bring trouble. The conclave would be pleased at such a turn of events, but Dalamar had other plans. He needed his master's memories nearly as badly as Raistlin himself. There was still so much to learn. This knowledge had to be preserved. Currently the big warrior was their only chance.

Finally, Caramon nodded, relieving Dalamar.

"I see. We need to spend time together and my brother will heal." he said and turned to follow Raistlin who had just some seconds ago, explained that he would go to town now with Raf if Caramon wouldn't come.

Leaving Dalamar to the relative solitude of the common room after sending a disappointed gully dwarf back to the kitchen, Caramon shook his head. Somehow he knew that there was more to this change then just a memory loss. He couldn't explain it to Dalamar or anybody else, because this knowledge came from a source that was not rational or couldn't be explained in words. Maybe it was because they were twins. Something was odd about this.

"So the elf worked magic. But magic isn't everything." he mumbled inaudibly. He shrugged. Currently he had no choice but believing Dalamar's logic and experience. Who was he to question this theory? Being the stronger of the twins, he had never had the brightest of minds, Caramon knew that. But people had always praised his caring generous heart. If this heart could help Raistlin to find to himself again... he would do everything to take care of Raistlin. Even if this included to abstain from some old habits.

'Raistlin has come back to me. He needs me. The taste of the brew, even the alluring intoxication would never be as important as Raist.' Caramon decided. Apart from the causes, it felt great to have Raistlin at his side again. That was were the stubborn mage truly belonged. Before he even realized it, Caramon found himself smiling while they walked between the treetops.


	44. There's a New Man in Town

**A/N**: Thank you people for reading and reviewing. This support means much to me. Also I recently noticed how many people have put me on their favorite lists. WOW! I'm utterly flattered!

If I don't answer your reviews in a personal note as I used to... its because I have no time. If I have so terribly long delays between the updates... its because I have no time. My final exams are taking much of my time, plus, I got myself a job. Additionally we're going to move in a month. That effectively kills what little spare time I had before. So if, finally, I turned lazy in answering mails and messages... I'm not neglecting you or have forgotten about you. Its simply because... yeah, let's say it together... I have no time!

I recommend "story alert" to anybody who wants to keep on track with this, since I can't tell when the next update will be made. Anyway, here is a new chapter, and we're nearing completion. Finally. Enjoy.

Petalwing

**Part 44 -There's A New Man In Town...**

All the way down to the ground, Raistlin rambled. He asked a thousand questions, reminding Caramon of Tika when she hadn't been old enough to even look over Otik's bar. Knowing that the former Raistlin had never been interested in any kind of conversation at all, this was a difference like day and night.

Despite having noted these changes, Caramon wasn't fully prepared for Raistlin's reaction to the summer market when they finally reached the ground. Some traders and shopkeepers had already gathered for the annual summer fair, selling their wares. Colorful tents, glittering wares on tables, the smells of sugary sweets, bread, and roasted meat invited the passers-by to stay awhile. The shopkeepers themselves also added to the stange allure of the fair. They praised the quality of their wares in their loudest voices and offered deals and allowances to everybody who showed the tiniest amount of interest.

The next hour passed quickly. It revealed one surprise after another and left Caramon speechless. For the first time in life, his solemn brother was not only content or moderately cheerful, he was enthusiastic to the point of plain hysteria.

"Oh, look at that, Caramon! Did you see the pretty jewelry over there? Have you seen the pottery and look, the marvellous embroidery on that fabric over here? Naranja would love it, I'm sure. And, there are toys! LOOK!"

Caramon tried to ask about the female Raistlin had just mentioned, but his brother's sole attention had by now focused on the wares of a toy maker. Raistlin had grabbed a wooden hobbyhorse and weighed it in his hands. "Would be perfect for Runino." he mumbled to himself.

Who was Runino? Before Caramon could dive further into solving that question, he felt a clap on his shoulder. Behind him stood Tarys, a local farmer and the Inn of Last Home's best supplier. They had an appointment. Caramon tugged on Raistlin's robe to get his attention. He told his brother to wait between the tents until he had settled business with Tarys. Raistlin seemed more then happy with this suggestion; he hadn't intended to go elsewhere.

"Don't go far." Caramon tried a last time, but immediately he knew that this battle was lost and Raistlin wasn't listening anymore. He had just discovered the baker's shop selling cake and sweets. Raistlin squealed in delight and was gone instantly. Caramon shook his head once more and turned to Tarys.

For the first time in days, Nima was happy. Among the tradespeople, the prowlers, and the pickpockets, she felt at home. This was her world and her element. Without even consciously noticing it, she removed her neighbor's purse from his waist and poured the content into her own, before returning the empty purse in a blink of an eye. When the man realized he had been robbed, he called loudly for the guardsmen to arrest the malefactor. Nima was busy studying the sweet products of a confectioner's art and raised an eyebrow at the enraged citizen. How could he make such a fuss about an empty purse? She would never understand that some nasty biggie people always started fussing about things. Somebody always disturbed the wonderful atmosphere of general revelry. She shrugged and focused on the sweets right under her nose. But when she grabbed a particularly tempting piece of cake to taste it, the shopkeeper lady intervened and explained her need for money, before things could be taken away.

Nima pouted until the solution struck her. Of course! She was a biggy now. And being a biggy she had to stick to biggy rules. The first rule in a biggy life was about money. That was what her parents had told her. Biggies loved money. They were so bent on acquiring money that they did the most awful things in order to make it their own. Some of them even worked! Anyway, there was one thing biggies loved even more then getting money, and that was spending it. They could engage for hours in what they called 'trade'. And they could talk about prices and bargains endlessly. In order to being able to do such talk, they had invented a lot of fine stuff to bargain about. And they had invented numerous rituals that went along with their aptness for exchanging money. They called it buying and selling. So being a biggy now, it was only natural that the shopkeeper expected Nima to partake in these basic human rituals. Now Nima had to pay. But this was where the wisdom her parent's lecture ran dry. Despite her proficiency in 'human-lore', she had never had to pay for anything before. Luckily, humans never expected the little kenderfolk to participate in their strange 'money-rites'. They just gave away their stuff to kender knowing the kender didn't suffer from the spending-coins-addiction like the biggies did. Nima bit her lip in confusion. The shopkeeper-lady eyed her expectantly.

Suddenly, Nima had an idea. Of course, she HAD money. Raistlin's money. And the money of other biggies she had met along her way to solace. That should help her out. She handed her purse to the lady.

"How much can I have for this?"

The lady smiled and opened the purse. But then, she turned white and gasped in shock. Nima bit her lip again. Something must have gone wrong with the spending-money-ritual. But what was it? She had done what biggies did, handing the shop-keeper her money. The worried kender was about to ask if everything was fine, when the lady raised her head and stared at her.

"Are-are you sure, you want to spend all of this, Sir? I- I mean, that's hundreds of steel, Sir."

Nima nodded.

"Of course its steel. And that what coins are for; giving them away. You're a biggy, I'm a biggy, we exchange coins. That's what we do. Am I right?"

The woman nodded slowly. The man was definitely disturbed, but he had just handed her more than a month's profit. A small fortune, twice the worth her whole tent. In the name of Shinare, this was a most fortunate incident, even if this customer was obviously insane. The shopkeeper smiled and made an inviting gesture.

"This is all yours Sir, you can take as much as you like."

"Really, can I?"

HA! Being a biggy was so easy! Overjoyed, Nima dove into the food, only to realize some minutes later that she couldn't eat all the sweets in the shop by herself. No even if she ate herself sick. She needn't worry for long. The solution to her problem arrived in time. In an instant, word had gone around that some strange mage had just bought the baker's sweets all at once. These news attracted the children of Solace as honey attracted flies. In a couple of minutes children of all ages had clustered at the entrance of the baker's tent, begging Nima to give them a sweet. Nima who by now had devoured seven pieces of cake, five cookies, three little marzipan pigs, two bags of roasted almonds and a big load of cotton candy signaled them to help themselves. That did it. Dozens of children rushed into the shop like a hurricane and the air was filled with cries of delight. Nima grinned widely and took a lovely chocolate bunny from a shelf. Biting off its head she shouted: "FOODFIGHT!"

When Caramon had finished his business he returned to the summer fair as quickly as he could. Raistlin was nowhere to be spotted but everybody had seen a golden man at the bakery. The first thing Caramon noticed there, were the dozens of kids running in and out the tent. They laughed and squirmed and blocked passage for everybody else. Finally, Raistlin appeared in the entrance. He was carrying several pieces of candy. When he saw Caramon he waved a hand and grinned. Caramon's mouth dropped. His brother looked incredible. The usually so composed Raistlin had spun sugar in his hair. His velvet robe was specked with cream, small crumbs of biscuit, honey and and other sweet substances and a gingerbread-heart adorned the Staff of Magius like a trophy. Raistlin noticed his twin's odd looks and grinned.

"Foodfight." he said as if this explained everything.

Caramon stumbled over his words.

"You- you really bought all the sweets for these children? And you- you... played... with the little kids?"

Raistlin nodded.

"Yeah, and I ate. But that's basically what I did."

Caramon gulped in disbelief. Watching this reaction, Raistlin's face grew worried.

"Did I do something wrong?" the mage asked.

Caramon shook his head, still stunned.

"No. No, Raist. You did everything right. I just-", he paused, searching for the right words, "I just... hadn't expected this from you."

"Oh..." Raistlin said in a subdued voice. Caramon's verdict obviously depressed him. He looked at the big warrior with big eyes as if expecting to be scolded for his act of charity. Caramon was moved deeply. All his life he had secretly wished that Raistlin would be like this. Loving and caring for others. Spontaneous. And now that he had acted this way, he was rewarded with disbelief and rejection. Caramon cursed himself for being so clumsy with words. All he could do was embrace his brother and press him to his big chest.

"That's great, Raist." he murmured, shaken. "I only wish I could have been there to see it."

Raistlin returned the embrace.

"Oh, Caramon, you are such a great brother. I'm so happy to be here."

Tears swelled up in the warrior's eyes. So long had he waited for Raistlin to return, so long had he waited for his brother to leave his path of darkness and suddenly, unexpectedly the gods had sent Raistlin back. And he was innocent and pure, just as he was supposed to be. Strong emotions overwhelmed him. Still, he realized that he mustn't let it show to Raistlin. Raistlin would probably misunderstand and the last thing Caramon wanted, was to ruin their fragile relationship.

"Raist, why don't you just take this basket and bring it to Tika, I'm going to get the rest of the stuff from the list she gave me." Caramon said the first that came into his mind. His voice was raw from suppressed tears. Raistlin didn't seem to notice it, though. He was obviously in a cheerful mood and agreed to help. Caramon quickly handed his twin a basket wich contained some herbs and spices he had bought from Tarys. He bid Raistlin goodbye and watched the mage leave. Meanwhile the children had ravished the bakery like locusts infesting a field. The shop was completely sold out by now and the kids scattered again. However, they would talk for days of their black-robed friend who had made a dream come to life.

Meanwhile, Nima made her way back to the Inn of Last Home. She still indulged in the joys of this afternoon and daydreamed about her friends at home. What would Naranja have said to this? Paying like a biggy and having a food fight with the youngsters. Thus occupied, she barely watched the bridge she was crossing. The next thing she noticed was a loud gasp and somebody bumping into her. Loosing her balance, Nima yelled and waved her arms. As if fate had just decided to toy a little with her, the basket slipped out of her hand and slid between the planks of the bridge and the railing. It stayed there for a second, wobbling a bit, until it finally toppled and fell. Nima cursed. At least she had her hand free now to grab the handrail and regain her balance. The other person apologized several times.

"I'm sorry, to have troubled you, noble magus. I was dreaming, not watching where I went, this is all my fau- oh my... Raistlin?"

The other person, a female, broke off her speech in surprise. Hearing Raistlin's name, Nima looked up and stared in a pair of impressive green eyes with long eyelashes fluttering over them. It was a handsome woman with full lips and long, blond hair. She wore a very elegant blue summer dress that emphasized her slender waist.

Nima shrugged helplessly. The woman must be an acquaintance of Raistlin of course. But most interestingly, she was the first person in Solace besides the Majeres who had recognized him. Nima nodded, a cautious smile on her lips.

"Yep. That's me. Do we now each other?"

The woman smiled and looked a bit sad, though.

"You may not remember me, because it has been along time. My name is Miranda."

"Oh, Miranda. Nice to meet you."

Miranda smiled again.

"You have been away for years, Raistlin. And now that you come here, I am the one to run in you and possibly ruin whatever was in the basket."

"Please take my honest apologies."

Nima motioned for the woman not to worry.

"Bad luck. That happens. I'll just go downstairs and look if some things are still intact. Maybe not all of it is broken."

They both bent over the railing and looked out for the remnants of the basket. It lay in the grass, several feet below them. Some of the spices lay scattered on the ground. Those were irrevocably lost. Others had "survived" the downfall and could still be put to use.

"The least I can do is help you get them back." Miranda said. Suddenly the woman chuckled.

"That reminds me of a similar incident years ago." she said when they strolled to the next stairway leading downwards.

"We bumped into each other and the fabric I carried learned how to fly."

Nima grinned.

"Really? Can you tell me about it? You see, I can't recall it since I have a problem with my memory, but that sounds funny."

Miranda's green eyes looked worried at Nima.

"A memory problem? That sounds serious."

"Ah, it's not as bad as everybody thinks."

They chatted all the way down. And when they finally parted, Nima had an invitation to visit Miranda in her home one of these days, where she would tell more stories of their youth in Solace. Nima liked the woman. What a nice person. This night, she had to tell Raistlin about her.

For Nima, the day had been a success. When she finally reached the Inn of Last Home, she gave the last cookies away to a very cheerful Raf and presented the gingerbread heart to the Dezra, the nice housemaid. For some strange reason the girl blushed, stuttered and excused herself quickly. The only person in the Majere household who wasn't very happy, was Tika. What should she spice the soup with, over the course of the next weeks? Nima went to bed early, waiting eagerly for nightfall when she would meet Raistlin and tell him of her adventures...

tbc

_**PS**_: You may have noticed that the events in this chapter resemble a certain adventure of Pippi Longstocking. Yes, this is a homage to the great Astrid Lindgren. And Miranda's appearance was (/is) inspired by "The Reason", a story by ChildlikeEmpress.


	45. Listen, Do You Want to Know A Secret?

Beloved reviewers and silent readers, I can proudly announce that this story isn't dead yet and is continued still. I'm sorry that it took so long. However, I moved to another city, I had final exams and other things keeping me very busy. Anyway, Petalwing is back from the dead. Thanks for your support everyone!

Special thanks to Dally who still proof-reads this, even though she hasn't much time herself. Thank you.

Enjoy!

--

**Part 45 - Listen! Do You Want to Know A Secret?**

To Nima's big surprise, Raistlin wasn't amused in the least when she told him about her adventures. Each word of her report about the events in Solace strained his mood a little more. Without any explanation, the mage grew angry, and fury broke through his normally composed manner. He even went as far as hissing in disbelief when she told him of the foodfight. But that was nothing to his reaction when she told of her appointment with Lady Miranda.

"No! You won't go!" He looked at her so intensely that she was sure her body temperature had just risen a bit by the heat he radiated. This show of hardly repressed anger would have brought stronger beings than she down on their knees, begging for pardon. She countered his stare with her simplest but most effective weapon, blue kender eyes blinking innocently and smiling lips asking "Why not?"

Raistlin had no intention of discussing that topic further or explaining anything to his curious companion.

"Because I forbid it." he hissed.

"You... what?" Nima put her hand on her hips, thus taking a confrontation stance. "You can't."

"I can."

"You can't."

When Raistlin realized that she had just lead him into a very infantile, inapropriate dialogue pattern, it was already too late. All of a sudden he had to defend himself. Unfortunately, he couldn't risk forcing her to obey by magic, not with all of those unclear side effects and mental links. And since she was a kender, all efforts of intimidation were probably lost on her.

"I... don't like her." he began, changing to logical argumentation. "As long as you are faking my identity, I would rather have you not ruining my reputation or acting ineptly."

Nima pouted.

"I never ruined your reputation, don't you see? I befriended an inkeeper. And a nice lady in another inn. And I even made you a hero and savior of people. And Dalamar too, we both saved a village from fire. And in Solace, everybody likes me. Well, except for Lady Tika, I don't know why. And all the children like me too." She grinned happily. "They said I'm the most likeable wizard they ever met. And you know, Caramon is also very happy to see me. Did you know how much he missed you? He was so happy I was there and that I think he is very proud of me... you, I mean."

Raistlin felt that he had to sit down. His chair appeared and he sunk in it.

"Kender you may not know it but you're playing with my life." he muttered. "Whatever you think you're doing, stop it."  
"But why? When you are back you will have more friends then before. You see, when Dalamar told me you had no friends, I decided to change that."

"NO!"

Raistlin was shocked by his own outburst. His self-control was unacceptably low these days. To tell the truth, in her presence it evaporated into nothing. He tried to convince himself that it was only Nima's annoying chatter and the sheer helplessness he felt. Still, he had a vague feeling that something else was draining his mind, gnawing on his mental stability like a hungry dog on a piece of dry meat.

"Why? What did I do wrong? Why do you look so depressed?" She approached him. The concern in her voice was alarming. Did he really look depressed? No, he was far away from depression, he was submitting to resignation. Suddenly, he felt incredibly tired. And he didn't have the strength to argue with her.

"Nima, it's just that I... I worked hard for my evil reputation. It took me years of constant efforts. Don't... ruin it by being nice." he said. "Especially not by being nice to Caramon, or Miranda or Dalamar."

The use of her first name stunned Nima. He had never used her name before. He always called her just 'kender'. That could only mean Raistlin must be seriously ill or something like that. It also caused her stomach to tingle a bit. Her name sounded nice from his lips. For a moment she wished that he would say it again, but he didn't.

"I don't understand." she answered. "I really don't. Why should somebody want an evil reputation? This is weird."

A chuckle escaped Raistlin. Always when he thought, the situation couldn't become bizarre, it just did. A kender, this kender, was calling _him_ weird.

"Because I am evil, Nima. You may not have noticed that yet. But really am. And I'm not a social person. I moved into the most horrid and forlorn place I could find. I did this partly because I wanted to be left alone."

Without asking, Nima climbed on the armrest of his chair and sat down there. She was so close that they nearly touched.

"Why in Thakisis' name did you become evil?" she asked with so much innocence and disbelief that it made him chuckle a second time.

"Because it seemed the right decision."

Nima closed her eyes. Somehow there was a hint of sadness in her soft, delicate features.

"You wanted power." she stated. He was surprised at her insight.

"Yes. How did you know?"

"Oh, I didn't know. Dalamar told me so. He said your first goal was magic and power. And powerful magic. Well, he didn't say it in those exact words, but what he said was along those lines." She opened her eyes again, but she didn't look at him. She stared into the whirling colours instead. "And by the way, he likes you. He _IS_ a friend."

So that was what the elf had told her? Maybe it was time the naive little girl learned a bit about the real world.

"He is not a friend, he is a spy. He was sent to me by my enemies and though he knew about the risk he came to me for the knowledge I could impart to him. He may admire me, but he would betray me at the first opportunity, nevertheless."  
"Oh no, that's paranoid! I can't believe that! He is a friend! He is so nice. And caring!"

"He is a good actor, that's all. I guess he only helps you because he wants ME back. As I said; he wants my knowledge and my skills, that's why he wishes for his 'dear master' to regain his memory again. I know that because that was what I would do if I were in his position."

"That's horrible." she said quietly.

"Do you finally realize that I have no friends? Nobody likes me and there is no reason for them to do so."

This last utterance invoked her defiance.

"But Miranda likes you, too."

He allowed himself a dry snicker.

"Miranda, you say? Miranda is a little flirt. She loves it to focus the attention of all males on herself. She tried to seduce me and when she was not immediately successful she enjoyed herself with my brother. And you are nothing more to her then a new thrill."

"But she was so nice!" Nima cried a little desperate.

Raistlin smiled.

"Of course she was. Everybody can be nice if he wants to."

Nima blinked an then looked at him roguishly.

"Even you?"

He raised his eyebrows. With her puzzlement, his superiority returned. A sinister smile crossed his face for moment. "Don't go there, kender."

They stared at each other for a while. Finally, Nima remembered their original topic. She had decided to prove to Raistlin that he was not as alone and evil as he claimed. That was when she could convince him that somebody liked him, despite of himself. At least that seemed like a good strategy. A strategy that she didn't understand fully herself. But not understanding a strategy didn't mean to let go of it.

"But... but... Caramon likes you." she added eventually.

He laughed. Humor was completely absent in the sound. The kender was still trying to idealize things. Maybe another bit of truth was in order.

"Caramon is a naive soul." His voice was cold, emotionless. "You both have _that_ in common. Besides, Caramon doesn't like _me_. He likes the _picture_ of me that he made up long ago. He wants me to be a little brother to pet and to care for but I never played along with his fantasy. Caramon lives for the past not for the future and that is his problem not mine. If he would just, for a minute, open his eyes, he would realize that the Raistlin he loves doesn't exist anymore. Maybe he never has. And speaking of that... you aren't doing my brother a favour if you're being nice to him. When we reverse the spell and I become myself again, what do you think will happen?"

Nima was silent for a while, and suddenly her eyes grew large. She turned to Raistlin with a horrified look.

"Oh no! It will... It will make him terribly sad. You mustn't. You must be nice to him."

"No." He said softly. "I am not nice."

"But you must. It would make him incredibly, horribly sad." Nima didn't know where this realization came from, nevertheless she was convinced that she was right.

"I once killed an illusion of him." Raistlin told her mercilessly, as if revealing all these cruel things could somehow stop her. Did he try to convice her that he was evil just as she tried the contrary? She had the feeling that somehow the discussion had turned into another test, another strange battle, another challenge. Nima was confused. Why were they fighting? And what for?

"At that time I thought it was him and he stood between me and the magic. And you know what?" Raistlin made a pause, Nima kept her breath. Then he came a bit closer to her and whispered in her ear. The tingle of his breath in her cheek made her shiver.

"He knows. He know what I did. At least he should know. However, he decided to 'invent' me instead. And he loves his imagination because he could never accept the truth, it would break him indeed."

Only when he had finished, Raistlin noticed how much he was giving away. He was sharing with her some very private thoughts. Strangely, that seemed right.

Her innocence. Her innocence was the crucial point. Earlier during this argument, when she had faced him, he had felt drawn to her gaze again. Somewhere, hidden away from his concious thoughts was the irrational fear that he would loose control if he looked into her eyes for too long. And then do... what? He didn't know, he didn't want to try it out. And maybe, if he could frighten her enough, these eyes would stop working their magic on him.

Nima fought her own inner turmoil. She wass torn between two different feelings. On the one hand, she felt this alien sensation of his closeness that made her stomache tickle again and her head spin, on the other hand she shivered at the venom in his words. Everything was so confusing. He wove a powerful spell on her, just by being close. Some kind of strange dark magic that stole her ability to think and speak. Still, she wouldn't give up. And suddenly, words came to her that were not her own. No, that wasn't true. They were her own, but they flowed with an a clarity of mind she had never known before.

"Did you ever tell him you were sorry?" she simply said.

If Raistlin was surprised at this question, he didn't show it.

"No. And besides I'd very likely do it again. He knows what I'm capable of. So why should I tell a lie?"

"Because it would bring peace to his heart? He loves you."

"As I said, that's his prerogative, his choice and his demise. He doesn't mean anything to me, why should I want to raise his spirit?"

He anticipated her answer. Of course she would insist that they were siblings and she would argue about loyalty and honor. He had heard that old song often enough.

Nima was quiet for several moments. She sat on the armrest, eyes closed in concentration - obviously she was desperately trying to think up an answer. At least, Raistlin had to admit that, she took this argument seriously. Something he had never seen a kender do before. Just when he expected her to give up, she suddenly opened her eyes and those blue infinite pools were dangerously close. His face felt hot.

"Because it is in your power to do so." Nima whispered in the same manner as he had done some minutes ago.

"You say you always wanted power. That's another kind of power. The power to make people happy. If you want power, why don't you use that? Many people would find that the greatest power on earth."

For an instant he was speechless and she had the advantage again. He came a bit closer. Suddenly he smelled the scent of her hair and her skin. It had a fresh quality; carried with it a remembrance of wind, wood and something very... female...

"Happiness, try it out; it's nice. Oh, and by the way, _I_ like you, too." she purred. Her voice sounded softer than before, mature and... seducing? She sat their with eyes half closed as if under a spell. Could it be that this strange, disturbing attraction was mutual? Her spontaneous confession of sympathy, did it come from the same source? Wherever it came from, if he could manage to get the upper hand in this, he could use that to his advantage.

"If you really like me", he murmured as softly as she had, "then do as I said. If you stop playing god of purity as long as you're in my body, that would make me really happy."

"Oh."

Her cheeks were flushed, she definitely was in a trance. Raistlin smiled in triumph. Suddenly he tensed when he how close she was, much too close. Her face was sweet. He was stunned by his own associations. 'Lovely'...? Suddenly his hands trembled and he clenched his fists just not to touch her. He had slight trouble with breathing. Maybe it was just another fit of his sickness. For the first time in his life, he hoped that it was.

'I have to get out of this. Now.' He thought desperately, while his treacherous body obviously intended otherwise. Had he really believed that he could keep control of this? How stupid. Against his will, Raistlin moved forward a bit; their lips nearly met. He could almost feel the taste of her skin. Without them realising it, this closeness, their argument had lead them into another kind of trap. Disturbing. Beguiling. Absurdity. Rapture. Disgust. Bliss.

"No! Wake up! Raistlin, wake up!"

--

To be continued...


	46. Final Countdown

A/N: Hello guys! Yes I know, this is much to late and much to short. But the next chapter is already in progress. (Otherwiese you'd probably kill me for this cliffy.) I want to continue so badly but it is nearly impossible. Last year we moved. In the beginning of this year, I had to find my way into a completely new job. I work at a job center about 8 to 10 hours a day. Then, when I finally got some routines, they gave us a new software... an utterly new software! And the servers of our network protest from time to time... And I had to start learning everything again. These days everybody is on holiday. (Except me of course.) Which means less colleagues in the team and still the same amount of work to do... I'm a slave to my job... If even the payment was worth it but let's better not talk about that... 

Anyway, I love you my readers and thanks for the reviews, I promise I keep this going. Have fun!

**Part 46 – The Final Countdown!**

Nima awoke with a gasp. Her heart was racing and her face was hot. Had that been real? Had she really tried to... to... KISS HIM? Had she? _Had_ she? And what about him? He had wanted it? Or not? Or...? Her thoughts were far from coherent. She spent some silent minutes studying the strange feelings the dream had caused. That HE had caused. There was a lump in her throat. And with it came a faint feeling of disappointment that the dream had stopped there.

All in all, it didn't make sense. She had no clue what this all was about. Love? Passion? Curiosity? Still, a bond had formed between them. It went deeper then everything she had ever experienced before. Undeniably a bond... between their hearts?

"Girl, you have a serious problem!" her mouth said aloud. "A very serious problem- Oh, shut up mouth!"

Great, now she became insane, talking to herself and such things. Stupid, stupid mage! Being body switched, feeling mind-switched, maybe heart-switched and now even her mouth was against her.

Eventually, she lost her patience. Too complicated. The whole matter was just far too complicated. It was unsolvable. Unsolvable problems demanded a special treat. The best course of action was usually provided by a proper meal. Food always helped in cases of emotional disturbance. The second best alternative was sleep. Sleeping didn't solve problems, but it gave you a break, at least for a while. After a brief discussion between stomach and brain, Nima decided to try both methods. In a proper order of course. She dressed quickly, snuck into the kitchen and raided the pantry. Several big pieces of bread and butter later, she felt a lot better. According to plan, she went back to sleep afterwards. Tomorrow would come soon enough.

A couple of doves huddled on her windowframe and cooed. They produced enough noise to make even a tired kender girl set up and curse.

"Damn birds! I should sacrifice you in a godsforsaken bloody ritual! Hey, why did I say that? No, no, I won't be confused again! I refuse to be confused, did you get that, morning?" she explained to the innocent, bright day. The day surely deserved a scolding, it was much too early anyway.

During breakfast, Nima was still deep in thoughts. Absent-minded, she devoured two bowls of Otik's beans without even noticing their exquisite taste, pondering the events of her recent dream-meeting. Thus, she nearly missed Tika shouting at Caramon for having left a mess in the pantry last night. She also barely said anything to Dalamar. Fortunately, the elf was busy himself, memorizing a scroll. He seemed not unhappy at being left on his own.

Finally, Nima dumped the spoon into her empty bowl and stood up. She had a plan! She would go and solve a secret now! And proceed in her scheme to improve Raistlin's life! Whether he liked it or not! She would have a talk with Miranda! And then she would have a talk with Raistlin, about politeness and manners and right behavior! And his selfrighteous attitude! Yes, he never dare to mess around with Nima Teketoll anymore! At least her thoughts and her determination were still her own.

"Yes! I'm going!" she exclaimed.

Dalamar looked up from his scroll in irritation, looking at Raistlin. "Shalafi? Don't leave your..." The mage had left the room before Dalamar could even finish his sentence. "...staff." Dalamar shrugged. Maybe it was better that way. He eyed the Staff of Magius more closely. It leaned against the wall behind Raistlin's chair. Without his magical abilities would Raistlin still assume the title Archmage? He was barely a mage now. Wasn't it dangerous to leave such a valuable artifact in his hands? Maybe somebody had to take care that the Order of Blackrobes didn't lose resources just because their most powerful member had turned insane all of a sudden? Just in case that his Shalafi never regained his mental abilities who would be his rightful heir? Suddenly, Dalamar found himself smiling.

Somewhere else, Raistlin sat at the breakfast table, ignoring the fruits and bread rolls right in front of him. He felt sober, as if he had been dumped into a watering through. The situation with the kender was alarming. The things that had happened, or rather that nearly had happened, could not be ignored any longer. Whatever the situation was, he had lost control over it. A rather disturbing if not terrifying thought. Maybe it was all due to the fact that the physical distance between them lessened each moment. And what if not? As long as the situation was this incalculable, it mustn't happen again. Luckily they would reach Solace this afternoon. Raistlin swore silently to himself that he wouldn't sleep again until the problem with Nima was solved in one way or the other. And not just because she was messing around with his emotions and his mind. She was also about to mess up his life! Gossiping with Miranda, how impertinent! Next time she would talk to Par Salian, telling him she was "Raistlin the white mage, defender of the innocent!" In the name of Thakisis, even thinking about her made him angry. This time, Raistlin noticed his emotional turmoil just in time and cut that line off. No, he wouldn't allow his emotions to rule his mind. He was a professional. It wouldn't be long any more. And soon, very soon, he would have a word with the Kender about certain things. About politeness. And manners. And right behavior. And her self-righteous attitude! He sighed. At least his thoughts still belonged to him.

The sun was about to set behind the hills, caressing the treetops and the peaceful houses of Solace with soft reddish beams, when a convoy of several wagons rolled into the vale and followed the road far below the houses and bridges. The track stopped at a large meadow close to the fair.

As soon as the gypsies began to erect their camp, Raistlin used the first opportunity to slip away. His stomach tingled. He was so close now. He carried the half of the crystal tightly in his fist. Raistlin was not utterly sure why he held it the whole time but it seemed the right thing to do. His hand prickled as though the stone were lightly pulsating against his palm. As if it could feel that a climax in one or the other way was about. His soft kender features showed grim determination when Raistlin climbed up a latter that lead to the inner city and thus, to the Inn of Last Home. He wasn't the only one, however who stole away from the group. Raistlin never saw the watchful and sorrowful eyes that followed him. Carefully, silently, but no less resolute, Tiomar, the half-ork ranger, had set himself on his track. He also missed Naranja who had chosen the same path a few minutes before him. Naranja herself didn't notice the little gnomish shadow that darted from cover to cover behind her.

Naranja hurrried along a huge bridge that let to a shop with herbs. Her mother had been to Solace before, she knew an excellent herbalist whose range of goods was very popular in the area. Toronja had sent her daughter to get some healing herbs before the shop closed. The fair began tomorrow and therefore she wanted to be prepared for every possible accident or hurt. The sun was about to set, the shopkeepers had all begun to put their wares away. Naranja made a run for the store and hastily yanked the door open. The shopkeeper a friendly old woman looked at her questioningly, she mumbled an excuse and quickly turned to a shelf were she hoped to find packs of grimmroot and bundles of Mishakal's blessing.

Her eyes fixes on the content of the shelves, she turned around a corner and bumped into someone. The stranger wore soft clothes, a coat of black velvet. When Naranja pulled away, she realized it was not a coat but a robe. And the handsome, young man wearing it was no human. Mesmerizing elven eyes looked at her in slight surprise. They had the silvery color of the full moon in a sweet summer night. A mage. An elven mage. And he happened to be the most striking man she had ever met in her whole life. Slowly he raised a delicate eyebrow.

Suddenly, Naranja felt as if she had been dowsed with a bucket of icy water. How stupid she must look, staring at him like this. Eventually, she shut her mouth and got a hold on herself. She couldn't hinder the inevitable blushing but at least she could try to look more confident.

"I'm sorry, Sir." she stuttered less eloquent then she was normally. "I didn't know you were there." As soon as the words had left her lips she wished for a hole in the ground to devour her. Of course she hadn't seen him coming, otherwise she wouldn't have run into him. Now he probably thought that she was a bit dull. His eyes were not unfriendly however. A polite, noncommittal smile crossed his lips briefly.

"You're in the wrong section, I suppose." he said. His dark, vibrating voice sent shivers along her spine. Suddenly she knew why Elves were always described as enchanting in songs and tales. They definitely were. It was no exaggeration. Fair skin and raven hair; he looked_ so fine in black that it seemed as though the color had been invented just for him._

"Wrong section?" she asked like a confused child.

"These are spellcomponents and ritual paraphernalia. Love-potions and spices are on that shelf I believe."

The blush became a shade darker.

"I'm not- I wasn't looking for love potions... I- I-... healing herbs..." She finally managed to bring out.

"Ah. Over there." he gestured vaguely in one direction.

"Thank you, Sir." For the gods know what reason, she curtsied and fled to the shelves he had pointed at. He nodded and turned away from her as if he had forgotten her already. If she had made any impression on him it was surely not the best one. Still she couldn't help but glancing secretly at him over and over.

Her face still burned and her heart raced as if she had just run a mile. Her last Tarokka-session came to mind. She remembered her own words. 'A mage, he may be evil at first...' Gods, it was probably him! It must be him. For what other reason was a blackrobe, an elf, here in Solace, far away from his order and his people, hanging around in a little herbal shop? Maybe the fates had chosen for them to met. Her heart pounded even louder at the thought.

'Oh, in the name of Branchala , I think I'm in love. I just fell in love...'

Meanwhile he had chosen some objects, paid them and left. On his way out he passed her by between the narrow shelves. Again, the soft velvet brushed against her skin for a second, then he was gone. He hadn't whispered a goodbye, he hadn't even spared her a second glance. She stood there, rooted in her place, staring at the closing door, until she noticed the reproving gaze of the shopkeeper. The owner was about to close down the shop for today, she was the last customer. Hurriedly Naranja made her purchase. Just when she thought that her disgrace couldn't become anymore shameful, the shopkeeper grinned.

"He's quite a handsome fellow, right? But be careful dear, these men like him, the servants of Nuitari, they are not for you to keep company with."

Naranja did not respond to this. The shopkeeper was probably right about him being dangerous, nevertheless she already ached for another look on him. The feeling had come down on her with full force. She had always believed in love at first sight. All of a sudden it had happened, time and space were still the same, but she wasn't. The old lady sighed.  
"Girls," she said as if reading Naranja's mind.

The gypsy bid the shopkeeper goodbye and left. When she was out on the street again, the mage was gone. Naranja suppressed a sigh. Suddenly somebody tugged on her skirt. It was Knoblar.

"Hey you. What are you looking for? Don't tell me it's that girly elf that passed along a minute ago!"

Today, everybody seemed to be reading her thoughts.  
"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about!" Naranja snapped and crossed her arms. Knoblar chuckled demonstratively.

"Maybe Nima knows. Look, here she comes and is going in the same direction as the elf. Maybe she's after him too. Girls are all the same. But what will Tasslehoff say, when he hears that? NIMA!HEYNIMAWEAREHERE!" Knoblar jumped and waved with his arm. Nima stopped dead in her tracks. She had passed by on another bridge only a few metres away. Now she turned around.

"Are you following me?" she asked aggressively.

"No, but you won't believe whom we saw!" Knoblar chirped, ignoring both Naranja's and Nima's annoyed looks. "An elf. And he was a mage! And he is from the dark side of the camel's ass if you know what I mean. That's strange. I never knew elves were into that black magic stuff. And Naranja likes him. Hey! Don't slap me Naranja! You see, Nima, she's angry. I'm right. Naranjahasaboyfriend! Naranjahasaboyfried! Naranja-"

"SHUT UP!" both girls cried at the same time. Nima's eyes narrowed.

"An elf you say? Blackrobe? Where did he go?"

Naranja watched her friend suspiciously.

"Why do you want to know?"

"Maybebecauseshelikeshimtoo-"

"Shut up, Gnome!"

"Because that sounds interesting. He may- no, it doesn't matter anyway." Nima waved her hand dismissingly and went on without another comment. Knoblar tucked at Naranjas sleeve again.

"Wannafollowher?" he asked the girl. "I bet she knows where he is going. She looked like she knows him."

Naranja frowned. Once again her friend's behavior was strange and utterly wrong. She made a decision.

"We better follow her, I have the feeling she may get herself into trouble."  
"You are not the only one," a dark voice said behind her. It was Tiomar. Somehow the half-ork had stepped behind them without a sound. She envied his ability to move in such silence and stealth. "I followed her from the camp. She definitely is up to something and from her expression I doubt that it is something amusing. So I decided I'd better keep an eye on her. Maybe on all the three of you. Now. Go." With that he shoved them forward towards the bridge Nima had taken. No one complained.

Nima strolled homewards. She had spent a very agreeable afternoon with Lady Miranda. Miranda had served tea and fresh cookies. Miranda was a very cheerful and likeable person, Nima could absolutely not understand why Raistlin would hate her so much. She had several children, her house was well kept and the silverware... With a dreamy look on her face she pulled a fine silver spoon from her pocket. It had somehow gotten there during the tea. She decided to give it back the next time. The spoon wandered into her pocket again... yup. The silverware was great. Miranda's family had always dealt in cloth, she and her husband had now taken over business and they were respectable people. And besides, people who cooked that well couldn't be mean or evil. Nima grinned when she remembered the talk they've had. Miranda had told her something of the past, told her some stories about Raistlin and Caramon and herself... someday she would share her knowledge with Raistlin. He surely had gotten some things wrong in the past. Nima pondered the mage's reaction and the image of his angry expression made her chuckle.

"Yeah, Raistlin, revenge is sweet. And I'll teach you a lesson..."

Humming a happy tune, she approached the Inn of last Home. A few early customers occupied several tables but the usual evening rush had not started yet. Still in the realms of music, Nima whistled a melodious ballad and sat down at a table next to the bar. Caramon was there, brooming the floor. They smiled at each other and Caramon asked where his brother had spent the afternoon. Nima opened her mouth to explain when all of a sudden the door blew up and a tiny figure appeared. A kender. With a happy squeal the new little customer ran up to Caramon and threw himself into the arms of the big warrior. Likeweise, Dalamar stepped in, through the open door. He closed it and watched the scene, a hint of curiosity glimmering in his calm eyes. Slowly he approached them. Caramon caught his small 'attacker' and held him away in disbelief.  
"Tasselhoff, what are you doing here?"

"Hullo Caramon. I was around and I thought I stop by- oh Raistlin's here too!"

The newcomer looked at Nima. She stared back, with big eyes and a wide grin.

"Kender!", she cried in utter happiness.

"Human!", Tasselhoff answered adopting her state of hysteria.

Caramon let of of Tasselhoff giving Nima and Tasselhoff the chance to fall into each others arms hugging the other for a while. Eventually they parted, faces flushed and excited.

"I'm so glad to see a kender, finally. You can't imagine, you're the first one in eons! Wanna drink a beer with me?"

Tasselhoff nodded.

Yeah, of course, Raistlin. I've never expected you'd miss me that much."

"Oh I haven't. I don't even know who you are."

"That is strange."

"No, its an- how did you call it Dalamar?- Wait, I have it. Amnesia! That's it."

"What does that mean?" Tasselhoff asked, wondering.

"No memory." Nima explained proudly. "All gone."

They sat down at Nima's table.

"Oh." Her new friend gave her irritated looks. "That's bad."

Nima shrugged.

"Its nothing. From what they told me about my past, it could be worse."

Tasselhoff grinned.

"Maybe you're right. You're more nice now", he stated the truth.

"I've always been a kind soul. Or better a kender soul? Yes, deep inside I've got a kender's soul." Nima chuckled about her own joke. Until, all of the sudden she jumped on her feet."Wait, I promised you a beer. I get one." Without hesitation she scampered into the Kitchen. They could hear her calling Dezra.

"Dezra, honey, I've got a guest, we need some beer..."

For the first time without having drunk before, Caramon needed to lean against the bar. The insanity had reached new heights. It was like a strange dream, or a beer-induced fantasy.

"Dalamar. Magus...", he whispered nearly voiceless and utterly bewildered, "did- did, I just get that right? Did Raistlin just pick Tasselhoff's pocket?"

"You are right.", Dalamar whispered back through clenched teeth. "It's incredible. Thieving from a kender, flirting with the maid..."

At this moment Nima was back, carrying two big tankards of beer. She set one down in front of Tasselhoff and took the second for herself.

"Ok. First things first." she said, sitting down again. "Proper introduction. You are...?"

"You really don't know? Oh well, I'm Tasselhof Burrfoot from Kendermore and-"

"Burrfoot? Wait! Are you from the Whistlewind side of the family or are you related to the Idlemind-clan?"

"No, the Idleminds don't come from Kendermore."

"Right. Sorry. I forgot."

"Its the Burrfoot family that is related to Tabbock Quickhand, you know he was a nephew of Uncle Trapspringer and my mother she is the daughter of a niece of..."

They were lost in a conversation about complicated family relations, leaving Caramon and Dalamar to shake their heads in disbelief.

"I never realized he knew so much about kender," Caramon said.

"That is indeed a strange phenomenon."

Nima and Tasselhoff were oblivious to the conversation next to them. They had started playing a game called "What do I have in my hand?" with each demonstrating to the other that he had more strange and even sillier things in his pockets. They laughed, chattered and drank Otik's tasty brew much too quickly. Just a few minutes later their mugs were nearly empty. A very specific blush on her golden features indicated that Nima was already suffering from the effects of the drink.

"Oh my gosh," she stated. "I have this funny feeling inside my head..."

Tasselhoff eyed the mug and laughed. A bit too loud. He was also befuddled.  
"Raistlin, you have the stamina of an underfed sparrow."

"I- I'm not-" Nima sputtered confused. "Sparrows can have a lot of stamina! A lot of it!"

She hit the table and stood up. "And you shouldn't be so mean and judge people only by their appearance. Looks can be deceiving, you know. Very deceiving, I know what I'm talking about, man. I do have-"

Tasselhoff climbed on the table and patted Nima's shoulder.

"I didn't judge you by your looks but by your poor tolerance for alcoholic substances." he explained.

"Oh."

Nima sat down again.

Dalamar rolled his eyes.

"I know where is is going," he muttered to himself, "I've seen this before."

When he moved to prevent his Shalafi from starting any trouble, Caramon was already there, taking the mug from the golden mage's hand.

"Raistlin, I know that this sounds strange coming from me, but you should be careful with drinking. Too much beer and wine is not good for you."

"No." Of course Nima didn't agree. "The last time I drank much more and I was feeling so funny, however I can't recall what was happening later. But Damalar knows. Hey Dally, tell us what did happen then?"

"Which part do you mean?" Dalamar gave back coldly. "The part when I hauled you towards you room, or the part when you stumbled against me or do you mean that part when you invited some poor souls to a tea and cookie party in the, let me cite it, 'terrible tower of doom and despair' because of you depression? Though it was rather 'debresshon' at that time."

"I had every reason to be depressed!" Nima defended herself. "I saw a lot of things that were terrible and frightful and very annoying, just like-"

At that moment the door rushed open a second time, revealing yet another kender. A young kendergirl stood in the doorway, her delicate features turned to an angry scowl.  
"YOU!" the girl cried at Nima with a mixture of anger and satisfaction. "Finally, we meet!"

TBC


	47. Crash, Boom, Bang!

A/N: Hello folks. This time it doesn't take a year until the next update. Huzzah! Thanks to all lovely reviewers, Dally of course and all faithful readers who still keep up with this story after such a long time. Hope you enjoy the recent turn of events as much as I do. ;) Enjoy...

**Chapter 47 – Crash, Boom, Bang!**

Nima turned around, open-mouthed.

"Oh by the gods! Its ME! No, its YOU! Oh by the gods, you're here!"

Raistlin watched her in grim determination.

"Yes, and this farce will end, now! Hand over the crystal!"

At the same moment that Raistlin's words left his lips, something strange occurred. His hand and arm suddenly acted by their own will. He realized that something was going on, but he could not, by any means, prevent it. Slowly he reached in his pocket. His fingers enclosed the crystal. It felt warm and grew hotter with each moment. For the spectators the scene had something surreal, as Nima made the same motion. They both pulled out their halves simultaneously. The stones glowed with a white light. They both stretched out their arms, aligning the stones with each other, as if another will had taken over control of them. The stones began to pulse with energy and before anybody could react, a tiny filament of light darted from Raistlin's stone to Nima's. The connection grew stronger within a few seconds, becoming visibly thicker and now the people close to them could feel the force of a powerful spell being worked. The bond straightened and suddenly, Raistlin felt himself drawn forward. He stumbled a few steps, trying to stand still and fighting against his own legs, which followed the will of the stone. Nima also jolted forward as though something were pulling her. And at that moment, Raistlin finally understood.

"Might of the Abyss, we've been tricked!" he screamed.

So far, people had been in a trance, to shocked from the turn of events to do anything. Raistlin's scream woke them from their lethargy, and the townspeople hurried towards the back door to get outside, panic causing some of them to stumble and fall. Dalamar, Tasselhoff and Caramon were still frozen.

Raistlin skidded over the floor, helplessly. The closer the halves came, the stronger the bond became. And with it, its force strengthened as well.

"Caramon! Help me! We mustn't touch! We mustn't touch!" he yelled.

Caramons head snapped up, he stared at the strange kender whose tone was so familiar and her looks unknown. Why did the stranger know his name? However, he cast a quick glance around and did the only sensible thing to do. He grasped his brother's body around the waist with one arm, and with the other clutched a wooden column that supported the roof. The pulling was so powerful that after a few seconds he strained his muscles to the fullest extent. But he kept his brother from sliding further towards the stranger. Nima moaned. The energy that came from the stone fled through her arm, into her body, inevitably drawing her forward, pressing her against Caramon's tight grip.

Even though Nima was fixed for the moment, Raistlin was still coming closer. He fought against it with every form of mental control he could invoke, but all he managed was to make his steps shorter and closer, rather than actually stopping himself.  
"No!" he cried in panic. "This can't happen!"

All of a sudden, a strong hand slipped around his chest, holding him close, halting him. A half-ork and a young dark haired girl had entered the room, reacting instantly. Copying Caramon's action the Tiomar grabbed Raistlin with one hand and with the other clung to the strong wooden table of the bar. Naranja also tried to help to pull Raistlin away from the energy. He could by no means lessen his hold on the stone; his fingers clamped around it as if they wanted to hold it for eternity.

Orsany's Wish had finally awoken like a beast that had slept too long and too deep. Now that it had returned, it came down on them full force and ruled its bearers mercilessly with a will of its own, devising an end that could only mean their demise.

Desperation flooded his mind like a spring tide when he tried to cast a spell. He couldn't focus on anything. His mind whirled in concert with the energy that flooded through his limbs, his veins, his lungs. The force of the crystal obstructed every other magic he, Raistlin, could cast. Panicking, he glanced around, searching helplessly for an external source of power to counteract Orsay's Wish before the structure of the crystal could complete itself. He found his apprentice, standing next to what could only be his mirror image. No, it was his body; held by Caramon, hosting a screaming kender inside. His stomach turned at the sight. There was no time to wonder at the absurdity of this image. He felt as though he was being split in halves and he watched his own body reacting similar to the one he inhabited. A loud crack rumbled through the room, the column protested loudly against the treatment, Caramon's muscles flexed as he impossibly tapped into even more strength, his face a mask of pain. Dalamar stood still motionless, staring at his master's body, eyes fixed on a point somewhere behind them, his mind trapped in a trance. Of course, the Wish had pulled everybody into dreamlike state. The closer the people had been when the spell was set in motion, the deeper they were under its curse. Those who had been farther away had snapped out of it at his cries. Caramon had maybe found away around the spell guided by his undying loyalty for his twin, or more likely due to him having as much magic as a cookiejar. But Dalamar, being sensitive and susceptible to the flow of magical energy was an easy victim just as he, Raistlin, had been. Still, Dalamar was their only chance. They couldn't hold this status quo forever; either Caramon and the half-ork would succumb to exhaustion or the wood would simply break by sheer force.

"Dalamar!"

No reaction.

"Dalamar!"

The high-pitched scream rung through the air, Dalamar stirred a little.  
"You pathetic excuse for a mage! Weak-willed boy! You'll never reach true mastery! Dalamar!"

Somehow the insults hit a mark and worked their way to the elf's mental haze. He snapped out of it.

"Shalafi?"

Slowly Dalamar turned and for the first time, he really noticed what happened. His gaze hung on the struggling kender girl. Understanding dawned in his eyes.

"Shalafi!"

The column cracked another time. Little fissures splayed out over the wooden surface. Nima screamed in pain. Caramon groaned at the exertion, Tiomar's panting filled his ears.

"Did you ever learn anything! Dispel magic! NOW!" _((1))_

This time, Dalamar needed no second order as years of training had made this basic spell nearly innate. Not even the confusing magic of the wish could divert the knowledge burned into his mind now. Dalamar stepped back. His hands and mouth followed the pattern unconsciously, the spell manifested and he hurled it against the line of energy connecting the crystals. Meeting the line of raw power, the annihilating force of Dalamar's counterspell puffed into nothing, was no match for the might of this artifact. Luckily, he had memorized it several times and could repeat the spell. Once, twice and again. Every time his own power succumbed to the eons-old wish. Every time he put all his power behind it, every time he lost. His spells may have disturbed the flow of power a little but not enough to become real threat towards the wish. And neither Caramon nor the stranger, nor Raistlin or the creature that possessed his body could hold out against the cruel force of magic much longer. Damalar knew he could cast his spell only once again. It had to work now or everything was lost. So this time, when he focused and centered to build his spell, Dalamar put every bit of power into it that had ever circulated in his body and mind. He wouldn't give up on his Shalafi nor on the promise of magic, he would prevail, would work his very best, even if it cost his very life! His master and the gift of magic itself deserved nothing less.

"Shalafi, this is for you. I _have_ learned", he whispered and cast a masterful 'Dispel Magic' of rare power, supported by his will and his very soul. Dalamar felt the spell leaving him, felt his body loosing strength and crumble. He fell on his knees, still watching his own magic, but he knew, he was not an apprentice anymore. This magic, cast unprepared and in desperation stood in its own right, though. As a piece of art. A word of power. A masterspell.

The spell was nearly visible to him, a translucent veil of magic that met the cord of white energy, clinging to hit, covering it. Slowly the web dissolved into little thorns which sank into the strand of light as nails into wood. The line wavered while two magical structures battled against each other. And then, the strand began to dim. Dalamars lips slowly formed an insecure smile, had he done it?

Just when the strand began to dissolve, a gnome appeared out of nowhere. Nobody had seen him coming, suddenly he just stood in front of Tiomar and his Shalafi, who had the body of a kender.

"Need help?" the gnome asked and grabbed for the kender's legs, the only piece of Raistlin that was in reach. Obviously he wanted to shove Raistin and Tiomar backwards. Likewise, he was aided by Tasselhoff, who somehow had shrugged off the trance and had darted to the gnome's site. Together they lifted Nima's body.

"NO!"

Damalar heard his own panicked cry but it was to late. The unsteady equilibrium between magic and mortal muscles broke. Tiomar had to adjust his stance and without his feet on the ground, Raistlin couldn't support himself in the least. He was simply pulled out of Tiomar's grip. Raistlin was yanked forward and they all fell. The strand moved and twisted, gaining new energy as Raistlin slipped over the floor, the crystal in his outstretched hand pointing directly at his counterpart. With the bond gaining new energy, it shook off Dalamars spell, twisting and struggling like a poisonous snake. They had lost.

Alone, even Caramon couldn't prevent the inevitable. Raistlin fought visibly but was drawn closer and closer to his own body nevertheless. Eventually, when there were no more then a few inches left the crystal pulled him up on his feet. His outstretched arm mirrored Nima's pose. The crystals apparently hurried for completion. The strand was not a strand anymore. They were so close now, that the cord formed a sphere. The sphere grew and extended with each moment, enclosing them, its white light blurring the sight of them. Too late...

Dalamar followed the events in furious desperation. There must be something he could do. Something. Anything.

"Please", he prayed to whatever god bothered to listen. "Please, help us."

Suddenly his gaze fell on something on the floor. The Staff of Magus. Had it been there all the time? Without hesitation, Dalamar's fingers clung around it.

"Please, work for me! Only once! Only this time! I swear, I'll pay every price you demand."

With a strength he hadn't known that it was there, Dalamar wheeled the staff around. For the first time, it vibrated softly under his touch. It seemed lighter then before; smoothly, it fitted into his hand and led him to new resources in his mind. He followed like a wondering child. Knowledge and power bloomed where had been wastelands before. Even in his keenest dreams, he had never imagined it would be like this, so alive, so joyful. Finally he understood the love and joy magic could give. One of Raistlin's first lessons came to his mind, a lesson he had never truly been able to comprehend.

"If you give yourself up to the magic, the magic will never give you up.'

Now it was part of him. And the staff of Magius began to sing. Only for his ears.

As he had seen Raistlin doing it innumerable times, he raised the staff and spoke a word of command. In the same moment, the sphere covered the 'crystalbearers' completely. Through it Dalamar could see how the crystals touched, when suddenly the staff glowed in a red light. An arrow of furious red fire shot forth from it and tore through the sphere.

White light. White light was the last, Dalamar noticed before an incredible eruption of power washed over them, leaving them unconscious.

--

TBC

((1)) 'Dispel Magic' D&D-mage-spell, a general counterspell'


	48. I Am What I Am

**Chapter 48 – I Am what I Am... (or not?)**

Nima awoke from what could only have been a bad dream. In fact, the worst dream she'd ever had. On an abstract level it was interesting to know that the human body could suffer so much pain after all. The last thing she remembered was the immense hurt of two overwhelming forces pulling on her, trying to break her in two. And yet there had been something different, too. The dream, the dreaming sphere, she had seen it and Raistin had been there. It was, for a moment, as if she had existed in two different places at the same time. And so had he. Now that was gone. Her muscles ached from the strain, but two long breaths convinced her that she was still alive and at least her lungs and lips were still in place. Groaning, she set up, suddenly realizing that she was sprawled on the floor. As she usually did when things like this had happened, she grabbed for her black robes to straighten them. However, there were no black robes. Nor was their golden skin.

Nima stared at her hands and legs in disbelief. Kender legs and kender feet and tiny kender fingers... instantly she was all awake, looking frantically around. No, she was not in the dreamland. She was still in the Inn of Last Home and this was HER tunic and HER shoes and HER arms she threw up in excitement. And Raistin was also there. He was crouched on the floor, just a few meters away, staring at himself in awe. His face mirrored her own expression of disbelief and hope.

Meanwhile she noticed a bunch of people who all lay scattered around the room, each in another state of regaining consciousness. She found familiar faces. Naranja, was there, already on hands and knees, trying to shake of her dissziness. There was Tiomar groaning, and Knoblar, who was helping Tasselhoff to get to his feet. Everybody was there, all her new friends and her old and trusted ones. Gladly Nima succumbed to the joy of the moment.

„YEAAHAAAAAAAAAAA!"

--

A long and high-pitched cry broke through the numbing grey that clouded Dalamar's mind, like a ray of sunshine on a rainy day. As soon as his ears conected him to the outside world again, he noticed soft fingers on his forehead and another voice whispering words of concern and reassurance. He blinked. His sight blurred at first, until out of a wild mix of dark and light colors a face appeared. He blinked again. Big, brown eyes shone warmly at him and rosy lips formed a smile. For the blink of a moment he felt like a drowning sailor rescued by a nymph. The impression didn't last for long as the nymph became familiar. It was only the young girl from the herbal shop. What was she doing here? The pounding in his head hadn't lessened as he suffered from a severe drain of power. He knew from experience that only long hours of sleep could solves this problem. While his body cried for rest, he sat up slowly, too weak to push her hands away as she steadied his shoulders. Absently he noticed that his fingers still clenched the Staff of Magius tightly.

„What happened?", he whispered in fear to have missed something important.

„There was magic going around these two", the girl answered softly. "And when we thought, we had lost, you cast a spell, and the last thing I remember is a blinding white light."

He followed her guesture, when she mentioned 'these two'. The Inn of last home was a mess of wrecked tables and chairs and broken dishes. In the center of the destruction his master sat staring first at himself and then at a young kender girl who danced around him in a silly manner repeating, chanting all the time „I got my body back, I got my body back." Meanwhile, everybody had begun sitting up or staggering onto his feet. Unbelieving looks were cast around the room and finally focused on the strange couple of mage and kender in their middle.

Nima was still caught in the midst of her own joyful passion and gave into her impulses freely. As if it was the most natural thing to do, she suddenly jumped at Raistins lap, hugging him tightly.

„We've got our bodys back!" She cried the news into his ear, sharing her happiness with him. „Raistlin, you are yourself again and I am myself again and we all are ourselves again and thats sooo great!"

While she danced around him, Raistlin was close to shaking just from the relief of being his own self again. Still he sat motionless, content to watch her. His mind was still caught in the strange impressions and feelings from what had just happened and his inner censor was not quite active yet. That was the only reasonable explanation for why he didn't prevent her from hopping onto him, clinging to him. It also explained why he couldn't help but answering to her excitement by smiling like an idiot while she babbled something about everybody being everybody again. He even hugged her back when she threw her arms around his neck in utter extasy, until... he realized that she was kissing his cheek. The touch of her lips on his skin made the hair in his neck tingle and his hands shake. It felt close to being hit by a weak magic missile and still different, exciting, and it filled his heart with a strange unknown desire, a longing...

Shocked by the sudden realization about the nature of this longing, he opened his eyes wide. Somehow he must have closed them. He happened to look directly in to his apprentice's eyes. The elf had facevaulted. So had Naranja next to him.

That was what stopped him cold. In an instant he shoved Nima away, pushing her back on her own feet, his expression cold and hard as usual. For a moment Raistlin had forgotten who and where he was but he was not inclined to make this mistake twice. Still, the look on Dalamar's face didn't change, neither did that of the girl or anybody else in the room. They stared at him as if he was a demon from the abbyss. Suddenly, Nima's singing broke off. He turned towards her. The kender watched him with a similar expression of horror, her outstreched finger pointing at him accusingly. Instantly her scream rang through the room.

„You stole my ears!"

Slowly Raistlin raised his hands, touching the sides of his head. He couldn't believe what his fingertips told him and reached frantically for the piece of a broken silver plate that lay close to him. The merciless mirror told him what he didn't want to believe. He reached up, and sure enough, his ears were pointed, though likely the same golden color as the rest of his skin He raised his head to study Nima once more. Here ears were delicate and small, fitting her face. But those were human ears, round and therefore unfitting. One cruel insight crossed his mind.

It had all just begun.

--

Congratulations, Dear reader, with this short episode you made it through „How to Hook a Mage, Part One" also known as „Wishful Thinking". Solution of all the amazing trouble and angst will soon follow in Part Two „The Turn of the Screw". Right here in your FFnet story-board.

I'm incredibly sorry that this chapter is so short, but I probably won't be able to continue until Christmas. However, I promise I WILL continue. There are so many interesing things, waiting for us all...('whistles'- love is in the air...) Oh, and by the way, reviews would be great and might motivate me... (hint hint)


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